Trustworthy Deceit
by SneakyFound47
Summary: First person and third person AU: Sydney goes back in time and everything changes... forget what you know...
1. Chapter 1

Trustworthy Deceit 

Chapter 1

"Sydney, you've been gone for two years…we… we thought you were dead."

And that's the last thing I remember. After that I must have passed out, and I know that most people think I'm crazy for thinking this, but I know that it happened. When I woke up it was four years earlier, and I had only just found out about SD-6 recently. Now, with everything

different, with everything changed and knowing what I know I have to make something different. I have to make changes. And for the first time in my life I know that I will be searching out the help of my closest enemy. But this time Vaughn won't be married, this time I won't have

years missing from my mind, this time everything will turn out for the best.

"Sydney, you've been gone for two years… we… we thought you were dead."

"No. No. That isn't possible."

Everything suddenly felt different, and some how I knew that he was telling me the truth. But I couldn't hear it. The ring on his finger was the last straw, suddenly; everything began to turn gray.

When I woke up I was in my bed back in California. At first I thought that I had been flown back. However, when Francie came into my room talking about her newest boyfriend, and asking about work I knew that something was wrong. I remembered this conversation; I knew that we had had it years before.

"Syd, are you alright?" Her face looked just as it should, but I still wasn't sure what was going on at this point. Something about Francie seemed wrong. And I couldn't figure out why she was repeating this speech since I knew she was seeing Will… or at least pretending to.

"Syd-"

"Stop there. What is going on here?" I almost screamed the words as I backed away from her, now sitting on my pillow, and reaching down instinctively for my gun. "I don't know what is going on, but I do know who you really are."

"I should hope so, Sydney. We've known each other for a while now. Are you okay?"

"I thought I killed you. How are you still here? Where am I?"

"Sydney, I think you are taking a dream a little too seriously."

My gun was in my hand now, and as Francie reached to take my arm to calm me down, I pulled it out and pointed it at her. She froze. Shocked that I had a gun, even more shocked, I suppose, that I was pointing it between her eyes.

"Sydney, what is that?" She said; indicating the gun.

"What is the date?"

"May 27, 2001."

My arm fell when she said this. What had happened, I don't know. I still to this day can't explain how any of this happened to me, and I really don't care. What I do know is that somehow I went back almost four years. My mind was reeling, and suddenly I knew that any minute a Vulcan and a Klingon would walk into my room too. Thankfully, this never happened.

"Oh my God… Francie are you sure?"

Unsure of what to do Francie said, "Yes… where did you get that gun?"

"It's a long story. I have to go to work."

SD-6 was an amazing place. The first time around I could never see this, never understand the complexities of the operation because I was too betrayed to see the beauty of the entire plot. In this office alone, almost two hundred people were employed, and only about seven or eight knew the truth. No one ever figured out the truth without being told, nothing ever aroused suspicion, and unless necessary, none of these people would ever be told.

It was this fact that had hurt me so in the beginning. My knowledge that all of these people were being lied to, betrayed, and none of them knew it. I still knew it was wrong, but after experiencing it all, and knowing that it would all end and the light would be shown to them I was able, now, to look past all of this.

I dropped my things off at my desk, said hello to Dixon, and went straight to Marshall's office. I loved him so much. His nervousness made him cute, and it was a quality that made him so wonderful.

"Marshall, do you have a minute?" I asked him peeking my head into his office.

"Sure, what is it, Ms. Bristow?" He quickly straightened the papers on his desk and tried to neaten up the area for the company.

"Have you ever heard of someone going back in time?"

"Like in a movie?"

"No, more like in real life… like extended deja vu?"

"Um, not that I can think of… would you like me to research that for you?"

"Yeah, when you have a minute. It's no big deal." I looked around his office, and noticed the strangest thing on his desk. "Um, Marshall, is that a pinecone?"

"Huh? Oh this?" He picked it up, "It's a video surveillance camera, I got the idea—"

"I would love to hear about your pinecone, Marshall, but I'm really busy right now." I paused for a minute. What could it hurt; I had always wondered what it would be like… "How about you tell me about it over dinner? Tonight?"

I thought that Marshall was going to pass out. I knew that he had always had a crush on me, but I never thought that it would merit this reaction. He stumbled, jaw dropped, and had to grasp the counter behind him to keep from falling over.

"Uh… um… I… I would l-love t-to Miss Bristow."

"Marshall, call me Sydney. And I'll see you at seven tonight at the Café on Richmond?"

"Sure."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- I would like to thank everyone for reading and reviewing, you all make it so much easier to write.

Thanks sooo much to my beta RainyDaySunshine, her stuff is great ya'll should check it out.

And I promise, Sark comes soon!

-Tori

**Chapter 2**

I sat there in the café for thirty minutes waiting for Marshall. I had always assumed that he was the kind who was always punctual, but quickly learned that I was wrong. Just as I was about to leave, I saw him enter the café. Quickly, not wanting him to see that I was about to leave, I placed my purse on the floor and put my jacket on the back of my chair. Just as I settled back into my chair, Marshall spotted me with an awkward smile, and a warm wave.

"Hi, Miss-uh-Sydney. Sorry."

"Hi, Marshall, how are you?"

"I-uh-I-I'm fine. Oh! These are for you!" He almost yelled the last sentence as he shoved a small bundle of pink roses at me.

"They're beautiful." It was then that I remembered that it was six months later that I had told him I didn't like pink roses… old mission and op tech, or, rather, upcoming missions and op tech. "Thank you." This was going to be challenging. I wasn't sure at that point whether I was referring to the date or the entire predicament.

"So, I…I brought my pinecone."

Okay, I will admit now, looking back on the date that I did ask him out on the grounds that he tell me about the pinecone, but I didn't expect him to actually bring it, or, for that matter, to want to really discuss it. But, of course, it was Marshall; I shouldn't have expected anything more. And, really, it was a cute gesture.

"So, I wanted to tell you earlier, but you were busy, so I thought I would tell you now. Anyway, do you remember that mission a few weeks ago to see Mr. Denato about the Rambaldi clock?"

I nodded my head; I wanted to see where he was going with this. I couldn't recall ever hearing any of this before.

"Okay, so, we were rummaging though his things… well, not 'we' but a team from SD-6… and we found some interesting Rambaldi devices. One was not a device per se, but a manuscript. It was similar to my pinecone, so I decided to build the device, and tweak it a bit… well, anyway, it seems that Rambaldi was into spying, because he designed a very nice surveillance device… I then turned it into a pinecone."

I laughed in spite of myself then. He was too funny, and the look on his face was that of smug appreciation of his pinecone. I think that what made it funny was the fact that he decided to disguise surveillance equipment as a pinecone. Only Marshall.

"So, it wasn't what I would call an 'ideal' date, but I had fun." I told Francie later that night.

"Syd, I'm glad you went out." She paused for a minute, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What was going on the other day? With the gun? I didn't even know you had a gun."

The problem with this question and the reason I had been ignoring it for the longest time was that I couldn't come up with an easy "bank" excuse. No matter how hard I had tried I could not come up with an easy way to explain away the gun I had been pointing between her eyes.

"Well, Fran, we live in LA. I just feel safer with a gun near my bed."

She seemed to accept reason, but she still had more questions, "Why were you pointing it at me?"

"You scared me is all. I had had a nightmare that you were replaced by someone trying to kill me. It was really realistic, and I woke up thinking that you were her."

I knew it was lame, but at a moments notice it was the best I could do. And under the circumstances, I thought I did quite well.

"I'm worried about you, Sydney, you just haven't been yourself for a few days now."

"I'm okay. There's just been a lot going on recently."

Francie leaned over and placed a hand on my knee. "Syd, if you need to talk, remember, I do live here."

"I know, Fran."

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, sweetie." I smiled at her, turned off the TV, and went to my room. I was back. For some reason I had been given a second chance to make things right, and if I played my cards right I might be able to save Francie. Then it occurred to me what that meant: I had to get to Mr. Sark. I groaned thinking about this. Working with him had been the most difficult thing I had ever done… and now I had to do it again, but this time by choice. Which meant I had to talk to my father… how would I explain any of this?

"Dad, can I talk to you later?" I asked him at the office the next morning

"Sydney, is everything okay?"

I nodded, "Yes, I need to ask you about mom."

"What is it?"

"Can we talk over lunch?"

"Of course."

"I'll see you then." I turned and walked over to my desk and greeted Dixon.

I was sitting in my father's car, a hamburger, fries and a coke in my lap, his lunch in his. He looked at me, pulling the wrapper from his sandwich. (It always drove him crazy when I called it that. He hated sandwiches.) I didn't know how to begin; I didn't know how to tell him. He would never believe me, and I knew that. I looked out at the water lapping up onto the shore, and turned my head to meet his gaze.

"Okay, um, I really don't know how to ask you this, Dad." I pulled a French fry from my bag, and bit into it. "But I know about Mom."

He looked at me for a minute, "What do you mean, Sydney? Your mother is dead."

"No she isn't, and I need to know where she is."

The look on his face was that of total bewilderment. I had caught him off guard, but I still needed him to tell me what he knew.

"Sydney, how could you possibily know that?"

"It doesn't matter how I know, the fact is that I know. And I need you to tell me." I paused, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Please, Daddy, it's important."

"Who told you?"

"That doesn't matter either. What matters is that I need to know where she is. And I can't tell you why either." How could I? It wasn't like he would believe me. "I need to know in the next 24 hours."

I looked back out at the ocean, and started to consume my lunch. All I could do that this point was eat, pray for him to contact her, or tell me where I could find her. My mother was my link to Julian Sark… and the thought that I would be searching him out made my heart race, then my stomach drop. And then another realization hit me: I would need Marshall for this too… but not the CIA…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I wanted to scream. This was more than I could take. I knew that none of this would be easy, but since Sark hadn't popped up in my life at this point, I had no way to tell if the CIA was watching him or not, and I couldn't exactly march up to my CIA handler, Vaughn, and ask about Julian Sark. If the CIA wasn't watching him, I, under the circumstances, didn't need them to. My task now was simple in theory:

Get out of SD-6.

Get out of the CIA.

Get my father to tell me where my mother (who is supposed to be dead) is.

And finally somehow get Sark to help me.

In theory, these are relatively easy things to do. A few months ago, these would have been very easy things to do, also, a few months ago I wouldn't have had to do some of them… Thinking in circles was starting to give me a headache. The only thing I found comfort in now was the fact that Francie and her new boyfriend were out for the day. Meaning I had time to figure out a plan.

I knew that first and foremost I had to get out of SD-6 safely, and before I could do that I had to get some basic tech from Marshall, or just ask very nicely.

It was three hours later. I was supposed to have taken the day off, but I needed to get this over with. I had a plan, and I needed to move quickly.

I walked into the screening room, stood in the middle of the black circle and waited for the red flash. The doors opened on a bustling SD-6. While this area under the bank was always filled with agents going about their tasks, today everyone seemed to be on the same job. Everyone seemed to be working together for some common goal. Something was going on, and I needed to know what it was. If this would in any way hinder my plan I needed to know before I talked to Sloane. I had never seen SD-6 like this before.

"Hey, Dixon!" I tried to get my friend and partner's attention. I ran up to him, and placed my hand on his strong shoulder. "What is going on?" I asked after he turned to look at me.

"Sloane just made an announcement to everyone. He wants our full force working on this case."

"What is it?"

"Someone put a hit on his wife, Emily. He won't say any more, and Syd, everyone seems to think that there's more to it than that."

"I'm going to talk to him." I turned to walk off to his office.

"Syd!" I turned and looked back at Dixon, "Be careful."

Dixon's warning perplexed me. What did he mean by "be careful?" I smiled and nodded before turning and walking onto Arvin's office.

Opening the door slowly and quietly, I saw Sloane sitting at his desk. He was obviously under stress, and knowing the situation and how much he really did love Emily I felt bad for the man. I hated the fact that I ever had those feelings, but at the same time I knew he was only human, and even he could, maybe, find redemption. _(I'm not sure if Sydney would actually ever think this way, especially after everything she sees in the future with Francie and everything, but it's your story!) _

I knocked softly on the door jam, "Mr. Sloane?" I asked. He looked up from his desk still rubbing his temples. "How are you?" I asked as I crossed and sat in a chair in front of him.

"Sydney. It's good to see you. I'm doing better. Emily is still very…"

"Shaken up?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Sydney, I have something I need to say to you. I didn't realize it until this morning."

"What is it?"

"I'm so sorry." He paused, looked at me, and I could see tears brimming in his eyes. "For everything."

I just sat there. I didn't know what to say, or how to respond. The more he said, the more difficult it was going to be leaving. But I knew that I had to go. I had to get back to where I belonged, and I had to save Francie, and I couldn't do that here.

"Sydney, I know that I have hurt you, and I know that I have lied through the years more times than I can count, and I know that I had your fiancé killed, and I know that those are all unforgivable. And I'm sorry, even though I know that will never be enough."

"You didn't have another choice, did you?"

"Yes, but the Alliance pressured me into killing him. What can I do to gain your forgiveness?"

This was something I never knew before. I remembered this happening, this hit on Emily, but I didn't originally come into the office that day. And now I knew that this was all playing into my hands.

"I need your help." I paused as my eyes welled up with tears, "I can't do this any more, I just can't." I looked at him pleading with my eyes for him to understand.

"Sydney, I don't know what you are asking me."

I reached across the desk and took his hand into mine. "I need out of this life, Arvin." I was taking a risk by calling him 'Arvin' but I hoped it would reach him better. "I can't do this, not anymore." A tear spilled down my cheek.

"I understand, Sydney, but the Alliance…"

"I am a loyal agent, Mr. Sloane, I would never betray this organization, but I can't do this. Everything reminds me of Danny, I can't spend another night crying myself to sleep. Wondering why, and doing all of this. This life killed my fiancé, and I can't do this any more."

"I know, Sydney."

"There must be something you can do. Richards left a month ago."

"Yes, he did. But he also didn't know the truth."

"What about Riley? Jameson? Cooley?"

"Sydney, give me some time, but for now, I can take you off of active duty."

I wondered why this was so easy. Something was not right. Did he know? I knew that that thought was ridiculous, and completely impossible, but for now, my first objective was complete… well, partially at least.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

She woke up in a room alone. This was the fourth day in a row that she had been here, and still no one was around. From the slit in the wall that was to be considered a window, Sydney could tell that, if the pattern repeated, soon someone would send stale bread and warm stew through the door, which would open only enough for the bowl and plate to enter. She would wait until she was sure that no one was around, and then, and only then would she eat.

She only remembered pieces of the accident… firing a gun, Francie, a fire, Will in the bathtub like Danny had been, someone carrying her out, and then waking up here. There was no odor, no slime or filth. There was nothing. She was alone, cold, and hungry. But she felt no pain, every night she knew that they tended her wounds, the burns, and gave her some pain medication.

In her head she replayed the night that she lost everything. Francie, Will, and Vaughn were gone; they thought she was dead. She knew that there was no way that she could have survived that fire, and every now and again she wondered if she were dead…if this was purgatory. She knew it wasn't because she didn't believe in purgatory, but still, what else could it be?

The door opened now, and two men walked into the room. Gently, they took Sydney from her corner of the room, and picked her up. She was carried through halls, made turn after turn, and suddenly, Sydney realized that she couldn't remember where her room was. The frantic feeling of being lost sank in and soon turned into panic.

They turned one final corner, and one of the men opened a door. Inside was a table. The walls were still uncovered stone, and still just as cold looking as her cell was, but equally as clean. The table was beautiful, and full of warm steaming food that smelled delightful. At the far end of the room was another door. Similar to the one they had entered through, only it seemed a little taller, and maybe a little wider, but still made of the same thick metal.

"Please sit and wait, Ms. Thorne."

Sydney was placed in a chair at one end of the table. She didn't know why they had called her 'Thorne' but she didn't care at this point. She was going to wait. Nothing had been done to her that would make her feel threatened; whoever these people were they had saved her life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

"_James? James!" _

_I could smell the alcohol on his breath even stronger than on mine. He just lay there still, unmoving, no rise or fall of his chest from breath. This was the only thing I can clearly remember about that night; everything else is hazy. _

_Even in my drunken state I still leaned over and took his pulse, there was none. How long he had been dead I didn't know. I stood from his side, took two or three shaky steps from his form and fell over myself. _

_I must have passed out then. The next thing I saw was James curled up with a brunette on a couch, and a lovely red haired woman laying next to me with her arms wrapped around my torso. I remembered this day clearly; it was nearly four years earlier, just months before my life would change forever. And for whatever reason, James and I had been sent back here, to this time. _

Carefully, I shifted the woman away from me, allowing myself to stand from the small loveseat we had been sleeping on. I knew James was here too, but the question was is he still dead? I crossed the space to him and gently pressed my fingers to his neck checking for pulse. I felt one, strong, even, and healthy.

I smiled silently to myself, and walked through the suite and into the bathroom. Whatever had happened, whatever had caused this scared me. I didn't know what to do, whether I was supposed to do anything at all, or just sit here. I knew that soon I would be spotted and flagged by SD-6, and at that point meet Sydney Bristow.

I showered quickly knowing that I needed to get James out of here as soon as possible. I didn't know how he would react to the situation, and since I currently was unaffiliated and my loyalties were, as always, extremely flexible, I knew that I had many options open to me. Immediately names started filling my head, old allies, new allies, some that I could now start new with, others who I would not want to start over with.

I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked over to the counter. The hair dryer that was attached to the wall was remarkably decent. As I thought about my options for leaving the two lovely women in the other room, I blew my hair dry, washed my face, and shaved.

I walked back into the sitting room, made sure James was still sleeping, and crossed into the bedroom. My bags were laying unopened on one of the beds. I unzipped the bag, pulled out a wrinkle-resistant shirt and pants. Once dressed, I walked back into the sitting area, and, placing my hand around James' mouth, shook him lightly to wake him.

I had pulled our bags into the sitting area, and they were sitting by the door.

"James, we have to go. Just don't say anything and we'll get out quickly."

James nodded his head, and slid out from under the woman.

"Julian, what is going on?"

"I'm not sure. I can't explain it, but we have to leave now. I'll fill you in as soon as we're in the car."

One of the women started to stir, and we quickly gathered up our things and left.

James was a tall man. He was slightly older than me, about 29 years old. Tall with brown hair and green eyes, he was extremely intimidating, but also quite handsome. He was not so much my partner as he was my friend, and as always, he liked to stay in the shadows. He was not a risk taker, and was known for taking the safe bets, even if that meant a cut in the pay off.

"Julian, what is going on?" His thick Limey accent cut the air, and made me look from the road to him.

"I'm not sure. Do you remember this day? Because I do. I don't know how this happened, and I don't know why, but I think we've gone back in time."

He looked at me. I knew how crazy it sounded, and I knew that he might not believe me, even though he went through it too.

"That's crazy."

"It's not crazy, James, it's bloody insane." He nodded in agreement to the comment, and looked out his window.

"Aright, mate, w'at do propose we do abou' it?"

"Right now, we get away from here." I paused for a moment thinking of a way to tell him my plan, "I think we look for Irina Derevko."

"Absolutely not, Julian. I'm not going to see 'er, no possible way."

"Just don't piss her off, and you'll be fine, James. Besides, I thought that apology went quite well." I could feel him glaring at me, and I smiled to myself. "I just have this feeling that we need to find her.

"Does this have to do with her kid?"

"Sydney? No. I can't stand her. I wouldn't work with Sydney Bristow unless I had to."

I looked straight ahead, and drove the car. I had one contact that might know where Miss Derevko was, and he was my only chance at finding her. Whatever had caused this; I knew that Irina would be able to help James and me.

As I drove, I knew that somehow Sydney would play into all of this, and that was the part I was not looking forward to. I honestly could not stand her, and wanted nothing more than to never have to deal with her again.

The street was paved with cobblestones, and bordered by pear trees. This was nothing like I remembered seeing it, and I was quite shocked. The house was small, quaint, and homey. The exact opposite of a place I would have expected Irina Derevko to live, but then again, she was a mysterious woman.

"Sark, I really don' think this is a goo' idea." James said to me in his trademark accent.

"James, it's fine. It's not like she's going to remember."

We parked the car and walked up to the house. I knew that she would not know who I am, and that she would most likely be suspicious of me.

"What are we going to do, mate?"

I looked at James and simply said, "Knock." I raised my hand and before I could rap on the door it opened on Irina.

"Yes?" She said slowly.

"Miss Derevko?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"My name is Julian Sark. I know you don't know who I am, but I have a contact who told me you were a Follower of Rambaldi."

"Please, Mr. Sark, come in."

She took us into the living area of her small home, and sat us down. It was soft, quaint, and obviously lived in. The colors were warm and welcoming, and you sank into the couches.

Irina stared at us, scrutinizing us, and deciding if we were trust worthy or not.

"Alright, who is your contact?"

"That doesn't matter." There would be no easy way to explain that I was my contact. "He asked me to keep him anonymous."

She nodded quietly. "Alright, I can understand anonymity. What do you need?"

"We have a question about Rambaldi. We need to know about one of his later Manuscripts."

"I can tell you what I know. But you will have to explain to me why you want the information, and which manuscript you need."

"Of course."

I glanced over at James. He was sitting with his back pressed as far against the back of the sofa as possible. He looked nervous, like he thought Irina was going to attempt to kill him again. The thought was amusing, and I had to struggle not to laugh at him.

I hoped that my plan would reveal some sort of result. If I was right I could get us back to my present…


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I would like to clairify a few things before the chapter. Every so often I will be putting a chapter up in third person, this is not a mistake, and I assure you it will all make sense later on. All third person chapters are from Sydney's missing two years, and yes, this is an AU story... I love AU. Also, I will be putting SarkPOV chapters in as well, just to mix things up a bit. I'm sorry for the confusion! My wonderful beta, RaindDaySunshine, made me aware of this slight confusion. On to the chapter!

**Chapter 6**

In my head, it was all easy. In my head it was a four-step plan. In my head it was like making a grocery list. However, the actual working of this plan was much more difficult. Partially due to the fact that I could not tell anyone what was going on, or why I wanted what I asked for. Especially when things came to my father.

He was a naturally suspicious man, only truly happy when he knew exactly what was going on with me. I was his only family, and he wanted to know that I was safe. I knew that he was still angry that I was in this life, and I knew that I would have to prove that I truly needed to see my mother to convince him to let me near her. She had hurt him, I knew this, and I knew that he still felt betrayed by her. But how does one explain?

I knocked on his door softly, hoping that he was home. After a few moments I knocked a little harder. Finally, he opened the door and looked at me like I was a stranger. "Hi, Dad. Can I come in?" I asked, my arms crossed over my chest.

It was a lovely apartment. Sparsely decorated, but that was nothing I didn't expect from my father. The walls were white, the only color on them were the pictures he had hanging on the walls… pictures of the past. Of me from when I was a child. That was the only thing that surprised me—I ranged from about two or three to about sixteen or seventeen, andin all of the photos I was smiling… I was also alone. Most of them were of things I didn't remember doing. The furniture was comfortable, sensible, and expensive looking.

I sat on his couch, looking at a photograph of he and I at my high school graduation, we both looked so happy… like a normal family.

"Sydney, what's going on?" He asked pulling me from my musings.

"What do you mean?"

"You never just show up on my doorstep." He paused. "Is this about your mother?"

"Dad-"

"Sydney, listen, I don't know who told you that your mother is still alive, but I don't know where she is."

"Dad, I'm not trying to start a relationship with her, believe me. But I have reason to believe that Irina Derevko knows the whereabouts of a person I need to find."

"Who, Sydney?"

I stopped suddenly. I knew that the conversation was going to come to this, but for some reason it took me by surprise when he asked me. How could I tell him that Julian Sark was my target? I had no way of knowing if my father knew anything about Sark or if either the CIA or SD-6 had not caught wind of him, nor did I care. All I knew at this point was that I needed to know where he was, and that my mother had a way of finding Sark.

I looked at my father in the eyes and said, "You don't know him, and you won't for some time. His name doesn't matter, Dad, but what does is that I find him as soon as possible, it could be life or death; and I have reason to believe that Irina Derevko knows where he is."

He met my gaze evenly, "Sydney, that is not going to suffice."

"Damnit, Dad!" I yelled, "You're just as stubborn as I am!" I stood and quickly left the room, I knew that even if Dad did know where Mom was, he was not going to give up the information without more from me, and there would be no way to explain it to him. I had contacts, channels, methods that I could use to find her myself… and now, I had no choice.

Honestly, I didn't know a lot about my mother, but what I did know narrowed my list of possibilities greatly. I know for a fact that she had been KGB, and that she was and still is a Follower of Rambaldi, and because of these facts I had only a few people who might know where she was.

It was two days later that I finally had a lead that might turn up more than dust, and I decided to follow it. Dublin always had been one of my favorite places.

Somehow, the quaint setting seemed to suit my mother. The vague memories I had of her always seemed to be in gardens, or by old fixtures of society. In my mind, she was always a quaint woman, and cobblestones and pear trees welcoming you into an Irish country cottage seemed fitting to her in some way. Of course, I knew that Laura Bristow was a fictional character like any you would find in a television show or book, but I always liked to think that Laura and Irina was somehow the same person.

I pulled my sedan up to the flower-bordered cottage and slowly stood from the automobile. I looked at the front of her home and smiled to myself thinking about how close it was to what I had always imagined.

I remember having trouble knocking on the front door, and hesitating trying to figure out what I would say to her when the door was opened. I don't remember much between walking up to the door, and embracing my mother, but I still feel the currents of emotion every time I think about it. The next thing I remember clearly was sitting next to her in her living room, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

"Sydney, how did you find me? I've been waiting so long to finally meet you."

"Mom, it's my job to find people." I said with a smile.

"Yes, of course." She smiled and paused, "Sydney, I knew that some how I would always find you. But I also knew that it would never be just for a chat to catch up on old times. You need something?"

I nodded slowly trying to phrase my next sentence carefully. "I have to find a person, and I can't let anyone know that I am looking for him."

"You know I'll do what I can. Does this mystery man have a name?" She smiled at the end, hoping for some secret rendezvous story to unfold.

"His name is Julian Sark. I can't tell you why I have to find him, but it is imperative."

"Sydney, I have only just met Mr. Sark, and I don't know much about him, but he is searching for a Rambaldi artifact that has been missing for over 140 years. He asked me about a manuscript that outlines Rambaldi's plans for a device that will, in effect, send people through time. I don't know much about it, but according to Rambaldi historians it would only work with people with a certain DNA sequence. I don't know what he wants it for, but I do know that he is adamant about finding it. If you would like, Sydney, I could arrange for the two of you to meet. Tomorrow I am having a meeting with him about the manuscript if you are interested, you could join us."

"What time?"

I laid in my hotel room bed that night thinking only about Sark. Outwardly, he was everything I looked for in a man, handsome, well bred, polite, snarky. But really, those weren't the things that mattered in life. It was his personality that stumped me. Yes, he was like a statue to look at, the "Ken doll", if you will, of assassins, but it was his personality that turned me off. Any sane woman could sit and stare at him for hours on end, melt over his sexy British voice, but once he started to actually _say _anything that you realized he was the typical high school jock. Rude, snarky, high headed, and in love with himself… and his woman of the night. I hated my self for being in love with him. And why did I always count snarkniess in both columns?

I tossed and turned for hours that night, trying everything in my power to get him out of my mind. I began to wonder if it was because of Vaughn. Another touchy subject. Michael Vaughn was the one man I ever saw myself marrying. I loved him more than life its self, but he had married some other woman. I didn't even know her! Was it because he married that I was thinking so much about Sark suddenly? It wasn't like he was married now... he wouldn't be for years to come, but somehow when I thought about him I felt like a home wrecker. Was it knowing that we were never meant to be?

I don't remember much about that night, but I do remember all of the thoughts flowing erratically from one subject to another, but all with one common thread: Julian Sark. I also remember getting little sleep that night, and being very tired the next morning... but the meeting was engaging.

At the local pub, I can't remember the name that was unimportant, I met Julian for the first time. Or, at least that was his understanding, and certainly my mother's.

He walked into the pub with another man at his side. He was taller than Sark with dark brown hair that almost touched his shoulders, and bright piercing green eyes. He was handsome, but looked intimidated by something, my mother I would learn later.

Julian looked at me, and for a moment I thought recognition flashed in his blue eyes, and I had decided it was nothing… or simply from him watching a mission I had… God only knew how many of my meets had been watched by a third party.

They sat quietly across from us the booth furthest from the door. First the man; he was sitting directly across from me, then Sark who sat across from my mother. He kept looking at me from the corners of his eyes.

"Mr. Sark, Mr. Stevens, it's good to see you again. This is my daughter, Sydney Bristow."

I reached across the table and shook each of their hands firmly. I needed them to trust me no matter what… I had to get home.

I watched his every move. Never taking my eyes from him, every move that he made was scrutinized by my eyes… how I would have done anything to be next to him now.

"Mr. Sark," I began, "I understand the basics of Milo Rambaldi, and his followers, but how does all of this play together?"

"It's simple. It has been said for years that the sum of Rambaldi's inventions are more than just the mere pieces themselves. My belief is that this final manuscript, the one I am searching for, contains the layout for the Mecca of his inventions and prophecies."

"But, what about the DNA sequence? What if you aren't the one who is spoken of?"

"Miss Bristow, I highly doubt that any 15th century scientist, mathematician, prophet, choose your term, could possibly understand the intricacies of DNA sequencing."

I nodded, not wanting to seem too overbearing in our first meeting. I would concede this time, and I answered my own question… he had no idea that I knew him, or so I thought.

"My daughter," Mom said, "knows almost as much about Rambaldi as I do, it would seem. She has her own reasons that she won't share, but would like to accompany you in your quest for this Manuscript."

"Absolutely not," Sark said not giving me a moment's thought, "James and I are the only team we need."

"Mr. Sark, I'm not sure you understood me correctly. Without Sydney you don't get any of the further information I hold on this manuscript."

I could see defeat grudgingly entering his face. He nodded slowly, looking over to James who smiled intently at Julian Sark. I was in.

Of course, it's not every mother who finds her daughter for the first time in almost thirty years and hands her over to two men she hardly knows and gives them the ultimatum of "take her or no info," but that was my mother. She knew that I had reasons for everything I did, and that I would take care of myself. It was almost as if she understood my predicament somehow. Of course, if our lives were some television show she would have lectured them for hours about being gentlemen, and probably threatened their demise if "so much as a hair on her pretty head is out of place!" but again, we are not a television family. Hollywood could never write a family as dysfunctional as we are.

"I have reason to believe that the manuscript is somewhere in Togo. I don't know much more than that, but if you have the kind of contacts that you all seem to have there should be no problem finding it. And, Mr. Sark, as you said yesterday, anonymity is key to everything; none of this information came from me."

Sark nodded to my mother, and looked at me with annoyance. Maybe he trusted me, maybe not, but however you looked at it he didn't want me around. And personally, I had no idea why. He didn't know me, right? Unless…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Her cell had changed now. Could it even be called a cell? No, cells were cold, empty, and dark. Whatever you would call this room it was not a cell. This was a suite. The walls were still that same stone that she had seen everywhere else in this place, but now they were covered in places with tapestries, a bed sat against the far wall; it was a deep, soft, and exactly Sydney's taste. There was an area rug on the floor, and everything was clean and looked new. Something was going on, and Sydney wanted to know what it was.

Even though her curiosity was peaked by the way everyone was calling her "Julia" or "Ms. Thorne" everything else seemed normal somehow. She didn't know who Julia Thorne was, but she seemed to be an okay person if people treated her this way.

The food was greatly improved too. The stale bread and stew hadn't been seen in almost a week. Now, Sydney was enjoying wonderful meals: roast beef, thick and rich soups, anything she asked for was brought her to her quickly.

She had new clothing, all of it with the tags still attached. She would wake up some mornings and a selection of outfits would by laying across her chair for her to choose from and add to her wardrobe what she liked.

But still, in the back of her mind something seemed strange. Why? What was so bad about this place? She had her every need attended to at a moments notice.

Even her wounds from the fire were still being treated at night, and she was receiving medications to ward off any possible infections. Besides any of it, Sydney was healing quickly. It amazed her how the burns and cuts were healing at an almost miraculous rate.

She stood and walked out into the hall. It was bustling with people today. Fresh flowers were being taken through the halls perfuming the air as they passed.

"How are these, Ms. Thorne?" One man asked Sydney

"They're lovely." She smelled the huge bouquet. "They smell wonderful, too."

"I'm glad you like them, Miss."

Syd nodded and kept on walking. Where was that man? Her arms folded across her, Sydney turned corner after corner, entering chamber after chamber in this palace that she was beginning to call a home. She smiled and sighed with relief as she walked into yet another chamber.

"I've been looking for you, what is going on?"

"Ah, Julia, darling. I'm so glad you are here. I have a guest coming to spend a few days with us."

"Oh, okay, who?"

James stood and walked over to her, placing a comforting arm on her shoulder, and looked her deep in the eyes.

"A test for you, Julia."

Sydney paused, smiling but her mind racing. She had to know now. With everything going on the way it was she had to know the truth, the one thing that was bothering her more than anything else.

"James, I have a question for you."

"Anything, you know that."

"I know I'm not supposed to ask, but, why has everyone called me Julia since I came here?"

James Stevens looked out the window at the far end of the room, but instead of crossing to it plucked a flower from one of the passing men, "Sydney Bristow. Who is she?"

"What do you mean?"

"What defines Sydney Bristow? Who is she?"

"She's me. James, I don't understand what you are trying to say to me."

"What is the difference between the name Julia Thorne and Sydney Bristow?"

Sydney looked around for a moment, not knowing how to answer the question.

"It's just the sound of the words, right? So, why does it matter what you are called as long as you are loved and accepted?"

She had no answer for him. Sydney shook her head… there wasn't one, was there? She decided to embrace this Julia Thorne identity.

James smiled, "You're beginning to understand, aren't you, Julia?"

"I became Julia Throne when Sydney Bristow was killed in a fire."

James smiled and hugged her tightly, "You're beginning to understand, soon everything will seem just as it should. And, now that you have made this first step we can begin to teach you about Julia."

Sydney smiled. A genuine smile. There was nothing wrong with this place; they were trying to help her. Now she had the chance she had been looking for, for as long as she could remember… a chance to start over.

"Thank you, James."

"And Julia…" He said waiting for her to turn back to him, "If you are going to embrace Julia Thorne to her utmost potential, how do you think she would sound?"

"Of course. I'm sorry, James." She said; her voice was now held by a thick upper-class English accent.

"Much, much better, Julia."

Sydney kissed his cheek gently, "Thank you, for everything you have done for me."

"I wonder who his 'friend' is?" Julia said to herself. "And how is he a 'test' for me?"

She was rummaging through her closet looking for something that would suit the occasion. A nice sun dress? Or a business suit? If only James had told her more about their guest the decision would have been easier.

She sighed and walked over to her dresser on which she was surprised to find a gray goose martini. She smiled and picked up the drink and took a sip. Perfection. She smiled and swayed to music that played in her head, humming softly to herself.

"Sydney?"

The voice was unmistakable. Soft, deadly, and intolerable. She stopped, as did the music in her head, and stood motionless.

"It's been a while, Agent Bristow," Julian Sark said from her doorway, "how are you?"

Sydney thought back to what James had said to her, "A test for you, Julia"

She turned slowly and looked at Sark straight in the eyes.

"Who is Sydney Bristow?" Her voice was the same icy British accent that she had used with James earlier.

Sark just smiled at her; it was going to be perfect. She didn't really need to be Julia; she just had to… to do this. Everything was going to work out just fine, and nobody would have to know the truth. They did, however, need a few more weeks, and Sydney needed more time. He knew that reacting in that way to her name would kill her.

Sark sighed and crossed part of the distance between them and smiled his crooked smile at her.

"James has done well these past few weeks," he said, "helping you to find Julia Thorne. I am glad to see that you are adapting to her place in this world," he waved his arms around the room, "and I know that you and I have history, but you need to put that all past us, Sydney and trust me. Your very life may depend on it."

"I'm sorry, but I don't recall you telling me your name?" Sydney asked wondering when the test was over, and how long she would have to keep herself from killing Sark… or any of the other things she wanted to do to him.

"Sydney now is not the time to play games. We have a lot to do and not much time in which to do it."

If Sark was telling the truth, she needed to humor him and listen to what he was going to say. But, if he was still testing her she had too keep up her guise to pass any tests. She looked at him squarely and smiled.

"You seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you, Mr.?"

"Alright congratulations Sydney, you passed. Hurrah. Now, please listen to me."

Sydney smiled brightly beyond Sark and crossed the room to James. "James, dear, who is this man? He came into my room talking about someone named 'Sydney Bristow'."

"Sydney, it's okay. You know Julian Sark. He was your test, we wanted to be sure that you wouldn't react poorly to familiar faces. We now have something to discuss with you. Come on."

Sydney looked at James quizzically, she thought he could be trusted. "James," she said in her regular voice, "I'm really trying to understand all of this, really I am… but I'm completely lost."

"Understandable."

"I say we go to the library to discuss this further," Sark said.

The library was an old, classical room with wood paneled walls, and deep rich colors. A table with a small selection of alcohol stood near the small sitting area, and was open for use by anyone. The three sat in the overstuffed furniture and talked quietly.

"So, you want me to pretend to be Julia Thorne, double for Kendall, and report back to the two of you… and I shouldn't go back home because…"

"Because everything is different now, Sydney." Sark explained quietly. "Because everyone has changed."

"You keep saying that, but what do you mean?"

James and Sark looked at each other for a moment, passing knowing glances back and forth. James nodded slowly for Julian to tell her.

"There's no easy way to say this, Sydney, but Michael Vaughn has… moved on."

Sydney smiled, "What do you mean? I'm sure he's out looking for me right now."

"No, Sydney, he's not. He was married today."

Sydney's easy smile faded away with the weight of the announcement. An almost visible cloud surrounded her as her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head violently and screamed as tears flowed from her eyes, and onto her lap.

"No! No, you're lying to me!" She screamed before she sank into a ball screaming and crying in the chair.

"I'm so sorry, Sydney," Sark said gently. He stood and walked to her side and placed a comforting arm around her. "I know how much that hurts."

"HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW?" She yelled at him, pulling his arm from her shoulders and storming out of the room.

"Way to go, Julian. Now you've really done it."

"I'm so sorry I let my personal feelings get in the way of business." Sark spat as he walked out of the room toward Sydney's.

James stood, walked over to the liquor table, and poured a glass of cognac. He drank the bitter liquid, and sighed looking around the room. They were just like a family, an average, dysfunctional family.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Just in case I, Julian Sark, have not made it _more _than clear in the past, I truly do not like Togo… especially in the summer time. It's hot, muggy, and utterly nasty. And to make matters worse, the only way that I could think of to get back to the present was to bring Sydney Bristow with me. There were days when I would swear that God just looked down at me and decided to punish me for everything I have ever done…ever. And how did I come to this conclusion? Because he put Sydney with me for an extended period of time, in Togo, in the summer.

"So," she began, "from what I have heard about Rambaldi, it should be easy enough to find the manuscript. But, getting all of the artifacts together and then assembling them may be a task and a half."

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying desperately not to show my annoyance. Unlike Sydney, I had already experienced our two brilliant years together… and then their abrupt ending.

"Am I annoying you, Mr. Sark?" She asked me suddenly, glaring at me from the corner of her eye.

"Boring is more the term I would use, Miss Bristow."

"Hey," James said quickly hoping to avoid any possible arguments, "I 'ave a great plan, huh? How about we all pretend to be friends for a while?"

Both Sydney and I looked at him for a moment trying to determine whether or not he was serious. We decided mutually to ignore one another for the time being.

The smell that permeated the air around the area was of rotten fish, and the people were simple. We had left the city and entered a small fishing village on our way to meet with a contact. One of my contacts, so we knew that no one would be using this man against us, unlike Sydney's contacts who may very well have been working with the CIA to find her. That was not her fault, but we still couldn't take any chances.

When I looked at her, memories of our time together flooded my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder why. One thing was exceedingly clear to me though: it was all her fault.

As I said earlier, it was hot. Very hot, and I decided that there would be no problem with me discarding unnecessary clothing, such as my shirt, which, stupid me, was made of silk… which does not breathe.

I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it behind me. Sydney looked at me, her eyes wide, and audibly scoffed.

"Have I offended you, Miss Bristow?" I asked a slight hint of snarkniess in my voice, just to grate on her nerves.

She said nothing, but glared at me and returned to her window.

In all honesty, I do still highly respect Sydney, but professional respect and general liking of a person are not always congruent with one another… nor are they mutually exclusive. Sydney was a wonderful agent, highly skilled, and very beautiful, but I truly could not stand her

There was something about the way she looked at me in this moment, though. Some slight hint of recognition that I could not help but notice. I knew that it was insane, but it seemed almost like she knew me almost as well as I knew her. But, of course, that was crazy.

I looked over at James, who was driving the Jeep, and saw his evil smile.

"It's not like that," I said. I knew what he was thinking. I had spent enough time with him to know what he was thinking.

"Oh, sure it's not, mate."

"What's not like what?" Sydney asked thoroughly confused.

"Jules here—"

"Nothing," I said quickly.

And truly, James was wrong. I was not trying to attract Sydney, nor was I attempting to mend bridges with her, it was nothing like that.

We turned one more corner, and pulled up to the small bar we were scheduled to meet with our contact. It was a shabby little structure, unkempt, and looked much older than the other structures throughout the village we were in. The interior was dark, and smelled of stale alcohol. Beyond the obvious problems with the place, it was also completely empty and eerily silent.

I looked at Sydney and James, and cocked my eyebrow slightly. "What do you propose we do?" I asked honestly. It wasn't a very large structure, and there were no obvious doors with the exception of the one through which we came.

"He has to be here," Sydney said, "there is no logical reason for him to stand us up."

"Well, he's not 'ere, now is he?" James said.

Sydney walked around the room slowly, as if she were listening for something. She started to stomp on the floor boards as she walked increasingly slowly. As she stomped the sound vibrating off the floor changed and sounded hollow. Syd looked up at us and smiled.

"Syd, you are brilliant!" James congratulated her.

"Eh." I said wiping the sweat from my arms and neck.

We looked around the one meter wide area of the floor for what seemed like hours, looking for any way to get under the floor. I checked my cell phone clock, and sighed. We had only been looking for a few minutes, and the search was going nowhere. Wanting to get out of Togo as soon as possible, I stamped on the floor boards as hard as I could, and gave a half-smirk to Sydney and James.

Beneath us, an old root cellar lay wide open, with one bound and gagged man inside. James was picked to jump down into the hole and investigate.

"He's dead." James called back to Sydney and me. "Now, can I come up, please?"

Sydney began to lean down and give James a hand, but I am nothing if not the perfect gentleman. I stopped her, and took over the hoisting of my friend.

As we three stood in the rotten old bar, hands on sweaty hips, none of us knew what to say to the other.

"Well," Sydney began in her arrogant tone, "our one lead is dead, and my mother doesn't know anything else. We could always contact a Mister Char—" That was when I knew something was going on. I only, personally, knew one Charles. Charles Dempsey. But… Sydney hadn't met him yet. I was with her on an SD-6 mission when she first met the man… not for another year and a half.

"Yeah? Come on in." Sydney called to me from the other side of her hotel room door. "It's unlocked."

I turned the handle on the door, and pushed it open slowly. I knew that everything had to be said. If I was right, and I knew that I was, Sydney and I might be able to team together and get home faster.

But her memories… I couldn't help but worry. Perhaps everything was better off being forgotten. I wanted her to know that I was misplaced in time too, but I also didn't want to have to bring up painful memories. I was sure that part of her hostility toward me was a result of her memories of our time together with the Covenant. I wanted her to know that I was in her same position, but I also didn't want things to become awkward. If we both had to deny that part of our history then things would be simpler, but it wasn't right to lie to her.

"Sydney?" I asked slowly, entering the room not knowing where she was, or what state of dress she was in. As I opened the door, I found her sitting on the bed, a bowl of popcorn in her hand, wearing childish flannel pajamas. "Are you busy?"

"Hmm? No, come on in." She picked up the remote and paused whatever movie she was watching. "What can I do for you?"

Her hair was pulled back in a low, loose pony tail, she wore no makeup, and her toe nails were uncharacteristically unpolished.

"It may be a case of what you can do for me tonight."

I knew as soon as I said the words that it sounded dreadful, and I cringed. Sydney looked flabbergasted, and moved back from me instinctively.

"That didn't sound right. Sydney, you said something today that I have to question. While we were at the bar, you were going to suggest a possible contact. A certain Mr. Charles something. I believe I may know who you are talking about, but to be sure; was it Charles Dempsey?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

I smiled at him. I kept telling myself to calm down. I thought on the SD-6 mission where I met Dempsey for the first time Sark had told me he'd only known him for a short period of time… months I thought he'd said. Obviously, I didn't remember correctly.

"Yes, Charles Dempsey." I smiled and shifted. "Why?"

Sark nodded. I had never seen the look on his face before. Total bewilderment. He nodded, looked at me, and nodded again. I could feel my stomach beginning to tighten.

"Mr. Sark?" He said nothing.

"Miss Bristow," the words were thick with thought and he was struggling to expel them correctly. "I have a theory about you, and I feel as if I need to share it with you at this time." I nodded my consent for him continue. "Over the past few days we have been working very closely looking for a manuscript that was written by Milo Rambaldi… and while we just met I have noticed slight gleams in your eye, hints or recognition from you. And I believe you have seen the same from me… that is why you decided not to recommend Mr. Dempsey earlier. You were afraid that I was here too, under similar circumstances as you."

I stared at him. Glimpses of recognition? What the hell was he talking about? I assumed that he was the same slick, slimy man that constantly made passes at me, trying to get me into bed with him… suddenly, I knew it wasn't him trying to persuade me silently to sleep with him, but rather to decide if I knew him too.

"Do you know why this happened?"

He shook his head and stood, hands on his hips. "No. But I think that the manuscript will help us get home."

I nodded this time. "Does James know?"

"What?"

"That I'm here too."

"No. I think it's best he doesn't." He sat on the corner of my bed like he had done it a million times and smiled sadly at me. "I know that we have a hard past, and that things didn't end well, but for the time being I think it would be best if we decided to put what happened behind us."

"What do you mean?" I wanted to know what he was talking about, but I was afraid of knowing too much.

"Syd."

"Don't call me that, Mr. Sark. We may be working together, but that does not make us friends."

"Damnit, Sydney! That is the problem. That's why it didn't work. Don't pretend like nothing happened, alright? I'm still dealing with it myself." He stood and stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind him. I didn't know what he was talking about, so I turned my movie back on, and settled back with my now-cold popcorn.

We walked down the streets of London, tuning corner after corner, passing all sorts of clothing stores. I had no idea where Sark was going, but I knew for a fact that he had a plan. He slowed outside of a shop, and above the door hung a sleek sign that read simply "Ozwald Boateng." I looked up at the sign, and raised an eyebrow.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Designer, Sydney." He smiled a crooked smirk, "We are going shopping."

"Uh huh."

James put an arm around my shoulder, "He's vain, but we love him."

As we walked into the store, Sark turned into a kid in a candy store. He pulled shirts, pants, jackets and tie from the rack, piling them onto my arms, and almost ran for the fitting rooms. He would try on an outfit, then come out and model the clothing. We separated it into two piles: take, and don't take. The "take" pile greatly out weighed the "don't take" pile.

He came out of the fitting room, dressed in a green suit, and spun around for me to decide.

"I don't think so." I said, and he nodded and walked back into his fitting room.

Have you ever seen the movies where the annoying blonde girlfriend takes her reluctant boyfriend to the mall on a shopping spree? I felt like I was in the middle of one of those movies, and he was the blonde girlfriend. I must admit, while Julian Sark is hard to work with, conceited, and a general bastard, he is a well adjusted man who knows himself very well. I respect him very much.

"Alright," he finally said, "I'm done." He paid for the clothing (a grand total of 4,000 dollars) and looked at me. "Sydney, I do believe that we are going to have to do something about your attire."

I looked down at my clothing, and back at him. I knew that my clothes weren't as expensive as his, or as new, but I didn't really see any big problems with them.

"Why?"

"Sydney, if you are going to travel with me you are going to have to look the part."

"Excuse me?" I was beginning to get offended. I didn't see any problem with my choice of style. Every thought I had previously conceived about him being a "good guy" or a "decent man" went out the window. "I have to play a part to be seen with you?"

"That's not what I meant--"

"I don't give a damn about what you meant, Sark."

"Sydney…" he trailed off now, like he knew that no matter what he could say would be wrong. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

I stood glaring at him. I knew that I overacted… just like I always do with Julian Sark. He just made me so… so angry! He was trying to be helpful and nice to me, and I reacted like a little child. I turned from him, and walked out onto the street. I stood there, wrapping my arms around myself, shivering, and wanting to go back inside and get my coat, but too ashamed to go back into the store.

The men walked back onto the street, arms laden with bags, and neither of them talking. I tried my best to smile, and push back the need to slap Sark.

"My offer is still open," he said to me as we walked down the street.

Really, I didn't want to let him buy me clothes, but I had nothing to wear but the outfit I currently had on. Also, who knew how long we would be together like this, it could take months to get home, years perhaps. And I hoped to no end that it wouldn't last more than a few months.

I nodded my head, "Alright." I said.

I felt a strange déjà vu. Somehow, this all seemed familiar to me. I knew it was absurd to think that Sark had ever bought me anything before. I looked over at him, there was something about his face that seemed contented, like it was a regular occurrence… being together as friends out for a day.

Still, even though he had done nothing to disserve it, I couldn't trust him. All my memories of him told me to believe nothing he said, to take everything he did with a grain of sand. I sighed as we walked.

I knew that this was ridiculous. Running around the world on a wild goose chase with Sark. I should go back to the CIA, tell them what happened, and work with them to get me back. But I had a plan. I didn't know why, but I knew that it was the only way to get home… and maybe the only way to remember.

I would tell all about my shopping trip with the boys, but when I thought that I was harsh about Sark's clothing I had no idea how bad he could be. Had I not known better, I would have expected him to become a fashion designer.

He was a killer shopping buddy. I will never go with him again. It shall not happen if I have any say at all. He spent the better part of three hours looking over each item, examining the fit, the cut, and the color. I thought he was going to kill me at one point for suggesting a yellow blouse. I saw a side of Sark that I didn't know existed… a part I was better off not knowing.

After we ended the spree, we headed back to the hotel to talk out direction.

"What about Dempsey?" I asked. "Why not contact him?"

"I don't think that would be a wise thing to do, Sydney."

"Why?"

"It seems to me that he never gave information away freely. Something was always taken in return."

James sat quietly through the conversation, listening to what we were saying, thinking. It was only now that he spoke up, "What if I knew a way to get him to give us what we need without anything required in return?"

Sark and I both looked at him. "How?" We said in unison.

"Blackmail." I eyed Sark. "It might be clichéd, and we've probably done it a million times before, but what if we were to play the 'whore' card?"

"He's not married." I said.

James smiled. "Not any more," he said. I thought his voice sounded slimy. "He has a daughter. She's 17 years old, and means the world to Mr. Dempsey. And, I happen to know that this promiscuous little angel is applying to a very nice, very conservative college… and some telling photographs would hinder her acceptance…"

We both looked at Sark. It was a genius plan.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Sark crossed his arms in front of this chest, and leaned further back into the chair. "And furthermore, I won't."

We both looked at him for a moment, I was puzzled. "Why?"

"I have strict rules, and she is under age."

England. Beautiful country. One of my favorites. And the home country of the Dempsey family. Charles and his lovely daughter Daphne.

We had intel that told us she liked men who looked like Mr. Sark. Handsome, slender, blonde hair, blue eyes. Unfortunately for Mr. Sark, he preferred women who didn't look like Daphne Dempsey.

She had short red hair and freckles, a bright smile, and large chest. She was average size overall, and cute. Not beautiful, not attractive even, but cute.

I almost felt sorry for Sark at this time. He grumbled from the hotel to the concert hall.

"Julian Sark, grow up." I finally said, "Think of it this way, she's a full 20 in our time. Just slightly younger than you. Quit complaining. We need this to work, we need to get home."

James had stayed at the hotel, Julian and I were to make our way into the hall, as excited siblings. He refused to go alone.

Inside the building, everyone dressed in furs and other luxury fabrics waiting to be seated for the Beethoven concert to begin, we started our search for Daphne. I was the first to spot her. I whispered to him, pointing in her direction, and made an excuse to leave my "brother" after I knew she had eyed him. I watched Sark's shoulders slump slightly as I walked toward the restroom. Not able to resist, I hid behind a shrub and watched…

She sauntered over to Julian, who had a plastic grin wiped across his face, trying his best to eye her the same as she was eyeing him.

I couldn't hear any of what they were saying, but I could see her cozy up to him, whispering in his ear, and running his hands across his chest. I could see him smile, and pull his cell phone out of his pocket, and soon mine rang.

"Hello?"

"Julia?"

"What is it, Julian?"

"Would you mind terribably if I left early? I believe I just remembered a prior engagement."

"Julian, you promised no interruptions this time!" I whined in case Daphne could overhear.

"I'm sorry, Julia. Next time, yes? Call mother and tell her I might not be home tonight."

"Fine." I closed the phone and slipped it back into my purse. All I could do now was wait.

I watched them walk out of the concert hall, and down the street, until I dared not follow them any more for fear of Daphne seeing me. I gave James a call, and in minutes he was picking me up.

Early the next morning, I heard a rattling from the room next to mine and knew that Sark was home from his night with Daphne. Oh how much I was looking forward to going through the pictures he took… and how much I knew he wasn't looking forward to sharing.

I pulled myself from the bed, and wrapped a bathrobe around myself before venturing out into the sitting room.

Our suite consisted of three bathrooms, a sitting room, and three bedrooms… all on Julian Sark's tab. I settled into the overstuffed couch, and coffee in hand waited for Julian to emerge from his room.

An hour or so later he immerged looking like death himself, and totally defeated.

"So," I began, "how was the big night?"

"Shut up." He slumped down into a chair, and rested his head in his hands. "I have a new found respect for female field agents."

I smiled and nodded. It wasn't very often that a male agent had the privilege of wooing and screwing, and those who hadn't done it handed the task off like butter. However, I knew that from now on, Julian Sark wouldn't give it away as easily.

"Really? And how was your night, Julian Sark?"

He glared at me. He really hated me at this moment. I could feel it. I could feel death rays being shot at me.

"Where's James?"

"Sleeping."

"I'm taking a hot shower."

Julian stood and walked toward his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt, and turned and glared at me one last time.

At that moment I saw a flash. Sark holding me, laughing, a playful glare, and the steam of the shower.

"Sydney, are you alright?"

"Huh? Um… yeah. I'm fine." I smiled at him, and he closed the door.

I looked around the hotel room, and sighed. Was that real? I had no idea. I hoped to God it wasn't, because in that flash I felt the most overwhelming peace I had ever felt… and I was afraid of this feeling… it scared me to death.

I sat in my chair and looked at Sark's door. What had happened in my missing years? Unless that was all a strange fantasy, it must have been time from when I was missing… but… with Julian?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I walked over to my suit jacket, and turned off the small camera hidden in the collar. I looked back at Daphne, and sighed. I pulled my boxers back on, quickly dressed, picked up my things and started for the door.

"Hmm.. Julian?"

I cringed. Shit. "Yes?" I turned back to her, and smiled

"Where are you going?" Daphne sat up, making no attempt to cover herself.

"I'm sorry, but I have an appointment in about an hour. I really have to get going."

"I was hoping we could spend the day together." She stood from her bed, and walked over to me, wrapping her un-toned arms around my neck, pressing her body against mine. I had everything I could do to keep from pushing her back. "Please?"

"I'm sorry, Daphne," I caressed her cheek, and kissed her gently, "but it's very important that I go."

She pouted and ran her hands down my back, and over my buttocks. "Please? Can't you reschedule?"

"No. If I don't go to the meeting, I could lose my job… then I wouldn't be able to care for my mother and sister." I pulled her arms gently from me, and turned, "I'll do my best to make it fast, hmm?"

"Alright," she said slipping into a white silk bathrobe.

I turned back to the door, and walked out of her apartment.

Back at the hotel, I entered the suite as quietly as I could, and slipped into my room.

After a few moments I could smell coffee from the main room, and walked out to get a cup. I found Sydney. She sat on the couch, clad in a white bathrobe similar to that which Daphne had worn before I left.

"Where's James?"

"Sleeping."

I looked at Sydney… she was a stunning woman. As I watched her, my thoughts wandered to the first time I had kissed her. How soft and gentle her lips had been, the way she looked at me, the feeling of her hands on the back of my neck, and the soft scent of her perfume.

"I'm taking a hot shower." I turned back to look at Sydney once more, and saw something in her eyes… some hint of lost memory… something I couldn't define… "Are you alright?"

"Um...yeah… I'm fine."

I shrugged and pulled my shirt the rest of the way off, "If you say so."

Hot, steaming water. It was like manna from Heaven. I could feel the nasty grime of the previous night washing off my skin like a dirty sheet being pulled off a new bed. I washed my body and hair at least three times before getting out of the shower…

I dressed in jeans and a simple Polo shirt before emerging to find Sydney fully dressed and James sitting beside her. I had the miniature video camera in my hand, and wanted desperately not to allow anyone to see it… but I knew that the entire tape had to be edited to perfection… to take any shots of my face out.

James stood and held his hand out for the card, and I reluctantly gave it to him. The look on the faces of Sydney and James was enough to enrage any man; smug, and far too excited. James took the memory card from the camera, and slipped it into a reader, and after a moment of toying with the laptop, I could see the looks of shock in Sydney and James' faces.

I swear, I wanted to kill them both. It was a game… not a job. There was no saving ourselves from this strange happening… it was all a game to get back at me… most likely for anything and everything I've ever done.

"My, my, my." She said at one point, "this is very interesting… James, did you know that was possible?"

"Sure didn't… Hey, Jules, how the hell did you manage that position?"

Sydney laughed at my blushing face, and I wanted to die. I knew what they were talking about, it was disgusting. My only reconciliation was that it was for a good cause… I hoped.

"James," I said, "If this plan of yours doesn't work I will kill you myself." Sydney and James both laughed.

As they examined each photograph thoroughly, I had more and more trouble looking at Sydney. It was a convincing act on my part, and made Sydney blush more than few times, and on many occasions she glanced up at me with a tight smirk and a raised eyebrow, and usually an accompanying comment.

"I think we could sell these online and make quite a profit. You know, Sydney, we could just forget about any meetings, or plans and just rent out Julian."

Sydney laughed, and seemed to almost consider the option, but I knew Sydney better than that, I hoped.

"Alright," I finally said, "Can we stop gawking and start working, please?"

Sydney looked at me, and smiled. "Of course." She said simply and shut the computer. "We should not view the intimate goings on of a young couple who are so obviously attracted to

each other."

I glared at her. "That was uncalled for."

Sydney laughed. It was a laugh I had heard a million times. A full, carefree laugh.

"I'm sorry. Sark's right, we should start editing. I'd like to get home as soon as possible." She crossed her arms and walked over to James who had moved to the other side of the room and was examining the photos again. Sydney closed the computer, and for the first time in a long time, she glared at him. "We're going to work, now, Mr. Stevens."

She took the computer and opened Photoshop. After four hours of work, my face was taken out of the pictures, and edited down to only the most intimate of clips, and if our intel was correct, her beloved father would do just about anything to keep that tape away from her college of choice.

Folder in hand, the three of us sat in front of Charles Dempsey. He eyed us, sniffed the air, and finally rested his head on his hands. There was a long moment of silence while he stared us down trying to intimidate us.

"So," he said slowly, "how can I help the three of you?"

"We need some information," Sydney said. "And we have reason to believe you can help us."

"Information? Of course. But, of what nature?"

"Milo Rambaldi." James said.

"I know much about Milo Rambaldi. I can get you any information about many of his artifacts and their locations. I also happen to know a great many historians who specialize in Mr. Rambaldi and his works."

"Wonderful." I said.

"Of course," he began, "the more trying the information to track down the higher the price will be." He smiled at Sydney, "A pretty thing like you… I could be inclined to find almost anything for you." He ran his eyes suggestively over her body.

I could see Sydney lean away from him, and cringe with displeasure.

"I'm sorry." I chimed in, "My partner here is not an available source of payment."

"Well, then it would seem that there isn't much I can do for you."

"How is your daughter?" I asked, "I hear she's applying to quite a prestigious Christian College?"

"What does my daughter have to do with Milo Rambaldi?"

Sydney took the file, and put it on the desk, and splayed the photos for Mr. Dempsey to see. The look on a father's face when he sees his only daughter in the arms of a man is quite a thing to see. It was first a look of pure disgust, then a look of fear.

"It would be a travesty for these to wind up in the hands of the Dean of Admissions…"

"Alright," he said, "Put them away. I understand. I'll get you what information you need."

I didn't understand. When I looked at her, my thoughts focused on our time together, and how much it all meant to me. How could she pretend like none of it happened? It was just barely a month ago…

She sat sipping her coffee, laughing with James, like nothing was wrong. I knew it still hurt her. I knew it had to. I wanted to talk about it, let her know I was sorry, and that I would do my part to make everything better… even if it was her fault. There was one thing that I learned very quickly about Bristows… they were all stubborn. As are the Derevko's… Sydney had a double dose.

"What do you think, Sark?" She asked me with a frown.

"About?"

"Dempsey." James said with a smile.

"I find it odd that he would be willing to give away any information we asked for because of a few risqué photographs of his daughter."

"Risqué?" Sydney blurted shocked, "Sark, they're down right pornographic! I'd do just about anything to keep them from anyone if it was my daughter!"

I looked around the café, my green Boateng suit jacket sitting on the chair behind me and sighed. I tried so hard not to think about the passion that we shared, but for some reason now, every time I looked at her it was all I could think about. I wanted to hate Sydney like I had just weeks ago when I saw her with Irina, I wanted to despise her and just leave her. But I couldn't. Something inside me was holding me back, telling me that she needed me more than she would admit to.

"What is it, Sark?"

"Huh?"

"You've been staring at me. What's wrong?"

"Jules…" James said to me with big puppy-dog eyes, "come on, mate."

"James. Shut up." I sighed and turned back to my coffee. "Everything is going to work out. Everything."

I wasn't sure what I was talking about, and I'm still not sure if I was trying to convince myself or them… or all of us.

I decided right then that I had to know why Sydney didn't want to talk, why she pretended that nothing happened, why she acted like she didn't know me, or how much she meant to me. I looked at her once more, and sighed. I wanted to have her as mine again, I didn't care how much she hated me, or how much she wanted to act like nothing had happened. I had resolved to find our what was going in her mind, I had to know the why.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Julian Sark was a criminal. And as far as I was concerned he always would be. My life was about getting home, and finding my way in this hell that was my life.

I wanted to know why I was here, why I wasn't back with Vaughn, loving him I could remember the last thing he said to me, and the ring on his finger. At first I thought it was a joke, nothing more. But then, as the moments began to come back I knew that it was all true... and I couldn't remember any of it. Oh, but how I wanted it to be a joke. I knew Vaughn, my Vaughn, was married, and I was the forgotten ex-girlfriend.

I sat on my bed and for the first time since this crazy roller-coaster ride began I cried. I cried for everything and everyone that I missed, that I loved, and the pain that I was hiding under my guise of the ever serious, ever content Sydney Bristow.

It started as a tear dripping down my cheek, brushed quickly away, but for every tear I swept away three more seemed to take its place. Soon, I was sobbing. My shoulders were shaking; I couldn't even sit up straight.

I hated myself at that moment. I wanted nothing more than to stop acting like a little girl, stop the tears, and act like the strong woman I was. But, I couldn't.

I looked up at the mirror and my mind filled with another memory; the scent of expensive cologne, the sound of Sark's voice in my ears, his hands wiping tears from my eyes.

As I inhaled the cologne, my mind returned to my hotel room. I knew my face would be swollen and red. I looked over at the clock hung neatly on the gray-green wall, and stood from my bed and walked into the bathroom.

Sark had asked me to dinner with him, and requested that I dress for the occasion.

I sighed as I twisted my hair up into a simple bun, with small curls of hair hanging from my hairline. I secured the style with ivory hair chopsticks, and put on my makeup. I looked at the clock once again and realized I had just under fifteen minutes to dress.

I walked over to my newly stocked closet and glanced over the garments Sark had bought for me. Arms crossed over my chest, I browsed the dresses, and selected a formfitting knee length blue dress with long sleeves that belled at the end. It was a beautiful dress, and when I wore it I felt like a princess. I slipped into a pair of strappy shoes, and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I looked lovely.

A soft knock sounded on my door, and I smiled as Sark said, "Sydney? Are you ready yet? We are going to be late if you don't hurry." I opened the door and smiled at him.

"How do I look?"

"Sydney, I've never seen you look more beautiful."

I smiled at him, and brushed past him into the sitting area of our suite. I stood there waiting for him. He looked amazing. He was wearing a silk suit, shirt, and tie set in royal blue, almost the same color as my dress.

"Shall we?" I nodded, and he took my arm gently and walked me out to the underground parking lot.

I looked at Sark, "What's going on?"

At that moment, a Jaguar pulled up, and the driver go out of the car and handed Sark the keys. He thanked the man, and opened the passenger door for me.

Hands clasped with his chin resting on them, Julian Sark gazed at me over the small table, and started to ask something, but stopped before the words even left his mouth. In the dim light of the small, elegant restaurant he looked like a movie star.

The server brought us our meals, refilled the wine glasses, and left us.

"Sark," I started to ask, "I have to know something."

"What is it?" He sat up straight and started to poke at the food on his plate. Since the time we entered the restaurant he hadn't looked me once in the eyes.

"For as long as I have known you…" My voice trailed off slowly. I couldn't form the question because I didn't fully understand it. "…we have never gotten along. Our brief partnership at SD-6 was formal, and impersonal. But, when you look at me, Sark, you seem almost too really know me. I don't understand…"

He tried to hold his face steady and unemotional, but his eyes betrayed his feelings. He looked into my eyes, then down at the table. He opened his mouth a few times as if trying to speak to me, but each time he gave up before he could start his statement. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, "Before you found yourself here, what is that last thing you remember?"

"I woke up in Hong Kong, um, I was instructed to go to the safe house and wait for my contact, which I did."

"What do you remember before that?"

"Will Tippin had told me about Allison Dorren, and we started fighting… I shot her." I stopped. The memories that seemed like just yesterday were still too hard to talk about. And why did Sark want to know? "The next thing I remember was Hong Kong."

Sark nodded slowly, and sighed heavily. He looked at me and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry. I was out of line yelling at you the other night."

I knew he had more he wanted to say, but I wasn't sure how far I could or should push him. I finally spoke again, quietly, almost inaudibly.

"I remember pieces." He looked up at me, his eyes begging me to continue, "I'm not even sure if it's all real… if any of it's real."

"What is it?"

"Mostly you, smells, sounds, brief images." My mind was racing, begging for the time to all come back. I wanted to know what happened to me. "Sark, were you and I… working together?"

"We were friends, Sydney. Nothing more." He answered nodding. "Yes, we were partners as well."

There was a sadness in his eyes. But it was more than that; it was an almost angry sadness that I couldn't explain. Like he was keeping something from me. Something important. But, of course, that was crazy. He had asked me to dinner to explain everything to me, to help me.

"Sark, the other night, at the hotel, what happened? Something you are still dealing with… what was it? Was it something important?"

"Nothing. I was overreacting, and I apologize."

"Of course. What I said was uncalled for." I reached across the table and took his hand, "If we were friends once, I'd like to try that again."

"Ah, well, you two were out longer than I expected!" James greeted us as we entered the suite.

"Sydney and I had a lovely evening, James." He smiled, "I'm going to bed for the night. I'll see you two later." He gave me a friendly hug, and walked into his room.

I sat on the couch next to James. His laptop was closed on his lap, and he put an arm on the back of the sofa with a smile. "Have fun?"

"I really did, James."

"I see the two of you are working out your problems nicely."

"Sark is a nice guy. I just needed to give him a chance, I guess." I looked at the television in the center of the wall, "I'm going to change. I'll see you in the morning."

"Alright."

I walked back into my room, and sighed. He wouldn't lie to me. If Sark said we had only been friends and business partners then that must be the truth. So why, then, did I keep seeing us like I did? Showering, him holding me in tears? It was something I would have to deal with on my own…


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_PREVIOUSLY: _

_The library was an old, classical room with wood paneled walls, and deep rich colors. A table with a small selection of alcohol stood near the small sitting area, and was open for use by anyone. The three sat in the overstuffed furniture and talked quietly. _

"_So, you want me to pretend to be Julia Thorne, double for Kendall, and report back to the two of you… and I shouldn't go back home because…"_

"_Because everything is different now, Sydney." Sark explained quietly. "Because everyone has changed."_

"_You keep saying that, but what do you mean?"_

_James and Sark looked at each other for a moment, passing knowing glances back and forth. James nodded slowly for Julian to tell her._

"_There's no easy way to say this, Sydney, but Michael Vaughn has… moved on."_

_Sydney smiled, "What do you mean? I'm sure he's out looking for me right now."_

"_No, Sydney, he's not. He was married today."_

_Sydney's easy smile faded away with the weight of the announcement. An almost visible cloud surrounded her as her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head violently and screamed as tears flowed from her eyes, and onto her lap. _

"_No! No, you're lying to me!" She screamed before she sank into a ball screaming and crying in the chair. _

"_I'm so sorry, Sydney," Sark said gently. He stood and walked to her side and placed a comforting arm around her. "I know how much that hurts."_

"_HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW?" She yelled at him, pulling his arm from her shoulders and storming out of the room. _

"_Way to go, Julian. Now you've really done it."_

"_I'm so sorry I let my personal feelings get in the way of business." Sark spat as he walked out of the room toward Sydney's. _

_James stood, walked over to the liquor table, and poured a glass of cognac. He drank the bitter liquid, and sighed looking around the room. They were just like a family, an average, dysfunctional family._

Sydney sat on her bed, tears streaming down her face. She looked up and saw Sark standing at her door. She said nothing, just glared at him. Why did he come to her room?

"You lying bastard." She said between sobs, "get out."

"Sydney, I'm not lying to you." He walked slowly to her bed, careful to make sure he would know if she tried to attack him. "I'm sorry you had to find out in this way."

Sydney lunged at him. She tried to punch him in the head, stomach, anywhere she could connect a fist. Not one of her attempts succeeded, she wound up with her wrists held tightly by Sark. He pushed her down onto the bed, and sat next to her. Sydney tried to push him back, but found herself held close to his body.

"Shh, Sydney. It's alright, it's going to be okay." He whispered into her ear. He rocked her back and forth, calming her until the sobs became simple tears, and the thrashing stopped. Sark wiped the tears from her cheek, and kissed them gently. He could feel Sydney try to pull away, and he knew it was too soon, that it was wrong to kiss her now, but he couldn't stop. His lips met hers and sent tingles down their spines.

Sydney was shocked by Sark's kiss, and instinct told her to push away, but every bone in her body wanted to give into the kiss. Her head was spinning; all she could smell was his cologne, spicy and intoxicating. His lips were soft, just like she had always imagined.

Sark ended the kiss, his hand still tangled in Sydney's hair, and they looked at each other breathless. Sydney leaned in again, but to her surprise, she met the air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I can't do this. It would be wrong of me." He hugged her again, and kissed the top of her head, much as a baby sitter would kiss a small child before putting him to bed.

"It hurts so much, Sark." Sydney didn't know why she was allowing herself to open up to him. Perhaps because there was no one else to turn to and she didn't want to be alone. She reached out for his arm, grasping it out of pure need for human contact.

"I know."

"How? How do you know?" Sydney didn't try to hide the anger and resentment that crept into her voice.

"Because, Sydney, you aren't the only person in the world who lost someone they loved. I loved her with every ounce of my being, Miss Bristow. I left on a mission for your mother. I was captured and tortured for three months. In that time she met, fell in love with, and married another man. The only thing that kept me alive for that time was my love for her and my determination to make it home to her. So don't act like you are the only person who has lost someone they love. It will only prove what a selfish woman you really are."

Sark stood and walked out of the room. He slammed the door shut behind him, and sank onto the floor crying. Had he ever really cried over her? He mourned her for the first time. Julian Sark was a master of this business. He could compartmentalize anything, any emotion. And that was what he did with her. But somehow, his walls broke down with Sydney, loosing the dammed emotion he had kept for so long. His whole body shook with the power of his tears, until he finally passed out on the floor.

Sydney sat in her room for three days. Her meals were brought to her, and no one spoke to her. Everyone knew it was too much for her to handle right now.

She was angry. She was hurt. She wanted everyone to feel like she did. She knew that somehow, if everyone felt like her then on one would hurt.

She was selfish for three days. She thought only about her pain, and the pain she wanted to cause Vaughn and his new wife.

Tears. She cried for those three days. Her eyes were always swollen, her lips were always red. She would lay on her bed for hours, her body ready to collapse from the weight of the tears she shed those days.

But what hurt the most… more than Vaughn… more than anything, was her knowledge that she had hurt Sark… and it scared her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It ached. It felt as if someone had taken my heart from my chest and was forcing me to live without it. I thought providence had brought Sydney back into my life, and was giving me a second chance at loving her, but this was clearly the work of some sadistic higher being.

I lay in my bed that night after supper staring at the ceiling for what seemed hours, trying to understand how Sydney could have forgotten what we had. No, it hadn't ended well, but what we had shared was real, and I missed her dearly.

My mind had wandered, replaying nights we had made love, days we had played in New York, London, Rome, and Venice. The world had been at our feet, our wildest whims were possible and we did what we had wanted. We had our problems our fights, our relationship tested in ways most people will never imagine. We had managed to love though fire fights, attack dogs, and being in the middle of a Covenant conspiracy. I loved Sydney Bristow with every ounce of my soul, more than I had ever loved anyone else before, and I wasn't ready to let her go… but she wasn't ready to hear the truth.

The next morning, when I next saw Sydney she smiled warmly at me, and gave me a short friendly hug.

"Good morning, Sydney," I said.

"Hello, Sark. How are you?"

I nodded at her curtly, and lied, "I'm wonderful, Sydney." I flashed her a short smirk, and walked back into my bedroom. "Sydney," I called after her, "come here!"

She appeared moments later, standing in the door, wrapped in a silk bathrobe. I tried not to show my surprise. It was pink with little cherry blossoms all over it, almost identical to one I had bought her in Japan a year earlier. I was sure it wasn't the same robe, but it was so similar that she was hard to look at. "I have something I need to talk to you about, Sydney." I motioned for the bed, and she sat on the corner, ready to listen intently.

I sat across from her, my legs tucked under me and crossed, as I shuffled through a bag of papers and disks. "Alright," I said pulling the file and disk from the bag, "these are the plans of the building, the safe make and model, a rundown on the work schedule, and a group of scanned pages from the manuscript. This is all the information Dempsey had on Manuscript 47. I find the title intriguing, don't you, Sydney?"

She nodded as she rifled through the papers and looked at a scan of the first page. I continued, "we have all the information we need to steal the manuscript, and a place to go to assemble the device and get home."

"But," she said, "I have a… concern, Sark." She looked at me, her brown eyes piercing mine, honest worry lacing her face.

"Sydney, what is it?" I took her hand in mine, and squeezed it gently.

"It's James," she whispered, "Sark, I think there's something wrong." She paused and sighed, "the other day when we were editing the photographs, we took a break. Anyway, I decided to investigate his computer, I was bored and was looking for Tetris or some other mind numbing game, I found something labeled with the Fibonacci Sequence; 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21, and so on.. So I opened it."

"What did you find?"

"Notes. A list of everything we had done from the time you met up with me until then. Completely comprehensive, Sark. I think he's spying on us. I don't know for whom, or why, but I really think something is wrong."

"I know," I nodded. I had suspected James wasn't completely on the level for some time, but I had no proof. "Now, Sydney, the question is… what do we do?"

"Pretend we don't know anything until we can figure out who he is working for. Then we confront him."

I nodded. "It should be safe to have him with us to St. Petersburg, and since we'll be staying in my home I can keep a close eye on him. We wait and listen, and when the time is right we make our move."

Sydney nodded, then looked at me and smiled, "Russia? I love Russia."

"I know."

The large, contemporary apartment took the entire 45 floor, and overlooked the domes of old St. Petersburg. Decorated in a mix of post-modern and traditional, my home looked just as it did the day Sydney left. The wall of windows in the great room looked out on Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood; a traditional Russian-design cathedral with colorful spires and domes marking the place where Alexander II was assassinated.

Sydney walked into the room lined by the floor-to-ceiling windows and gasped. I turned and smiled at her. "What do you think?" I asked the question with kiddie-gloves.

"It's amazing. Oh, Sark, look at that church," she said in total awe of the scene before her.

"This is one of my favorite homes." I took the bag from her hand and started to walk into our bedroom, then stopped remembering that things were different now. It was no longer our bedroom, but mine. "And, Sydney, the view from your rooms are just as beautiful. We have the entire floor, and every side has another picturesque scene." I turned and walked through the room and to the other side of the apartment, "come Sydney, let me show you."

The walls of her bedroom and bathroom and sitting room were painted in a deep royal blue, and blue satin curtains hung on the walls. The shimmer from her curtains cast long shadows on the bed and floor and walls, and glinted off the mirrors she had put up.

Sydney looked around the room and gasped, "how did you know? It's amazing… Sark, this is my dream bedroom!"

She ran her hand over the silk bedspread, and over the mahogany foot board. She smiled at me like she had a million times, and I smiled back.

Once, a long time ago, we have loved each other. Once, a long time ago, I had called Sydney Bristow my lover. I wanted to hate her for what she had done to me. I wanted to see her writhe in the same pain she had caused me. To see her in the drunken stupors she had left me with, the same painful memories, the unnamed women, and the lonely nights. But, through all the pain and hatred I wanted to feel, all the misery I wished upon her, and the heartache that I felt when I looked at her, I couldn't help but love her just as much and take back all the ill content.

She turned and looked at me with a wide happy smile. "It's perfect, Sark!" She laughed and kissed my cheek.

"I know, Sydney." I paused, "you chose the décor."

"I've lived here before?"

I nodded and chocked back the lump that had formed in the back of my throat. It was going to be hard working with her again and not sharing the memories that I knew were locked away in her head somewhere.

"I'll leave you now," I placed her bags on the bed, "You can settle in. Look around the house, make your self at home, love." I turned and walked out of the room shutting the door gently behind me.

"Hey, mate," James said walking up to me.

"Hello, James."

He looked at me with a furrowed brow and cocked his head to the side. "What's going on with you lately, Jules?"

"What do you mean?"

"You always look totally defeated after talkin' to 'er."

I didn't know what to say to him so I looked at him blankly. As always, he could see right through me.

"Jules, why's she pretendin' not to remember us?"

I couldn't tell him, and I knew that. I thought for a moment, then looked him straight in the eyes unwavering, "I don't know." I sighed, "maybe because it hurts too much to think about it, James."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters. I hope I haven't lost too many readers to my forever break. I'm back now and will be updating at reasonably frequent rates now that school is over for the Summer. I'm working part time, but it's a slow job so I'll have plenty of time to work though the plot mentally and be able to produce chapters quickly. Thank you to my wonderful, amazing, faithful readers. Please review so I know you're still out there and that I'm not writing in vain. Love to you all, _

_-Sneaky_

* * *

**Chapter 14**

I woke up with cold sweat dripping from my face, and my heart racing. I sat up stock straight in my bed, the dreams were getting all too real. I wiped the sweat from my face and gasped into the night air.

I looked around the foreign room, and slipped from the bed and walked over to the floor to ceiling window and looked out into the St. Petersburg night, and the illuminated spires of the churches and ancient buildings. I leaned against the window, bracing my body with my arm, and wiped the stray tears from my face.

What had happened to me? I wanted to know what I was missing, but the more I thought I remembered the less I was sure of. I didn't know if I really wanted to remember what I had lost. What kind of a woman had I become in the two years I had lost? And if I had been happy why had I left?

I wrapped the silk bathrobe with pink cherry blossoms around me and walked out of the room. The apartment was dark except for the little streams of light that could eek through the gaps in the curtains. I could see passing glimpses of the spires of the city as I walked into living room. I ran my hand over the back of the couch and sighed. The remnants of the dream hung on my shoulders like an old cloak. I had had these dreams before, dreams of what I thought were my missing years, but this one was more real than the others had ever been.

I saw a light turn on around the corner from my position at the couch, and walked toward the light. I could hear rustling sounds from behind the wall, and smiled as I poked my head around the corner to see Julian digging through the refrigerator wearing only his flannel pajama pants. The stress and fear from my dream melted away when he turned and looked at me, spoon sticking out of his mouth and carton of ice cream in hand, like a naughty little boy with wide guilty eyes.

"Julian Sark, I never took you for the midnight snacking type." I stood with a smile on my face and fists on my hips.

He stuffed the spoon into the carton and licked his lips. "Well, the secret is out." Sark stared at me, "and I know you aren't the type to wake up in the middle of the night."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk?" He sat at a stool next to a small island. He must have noticed the thoughtful expression that had adorned my face.

"I had this strange dream." He looked at me expectantly. "I was running through this house with a device under my arm. This man rounded the corner and I had no where to turn to get away from him so I stopped. He- he looked at me like I've never seen anyone look before, and he threw a dagger at me, it hit me in the abdomen, right where I have this scar. I fell back to the ground and he ripped the knife from my side. That's when I woke up."

Sark nodded. He covered the ice cream and sighed. "I remember that night." His blue eyes looked at the counter and he ran a hand over the slightly bumpy surface, "I found you in that corridor when you didn't respond to James or me. You were nearly dead from blood loss. I was so concerned for you, Sydney." He smiled slightly then looked away from me again. His body angled away from me, and his movements were uncomfortable and uncertain.

"I don't believe you, Sark."

"Excuse me?"

"You said we were business partners. You said that was all. But every dream, every flash I've had you have told me was real… at least, those I've told you about. Sark, were we… lovers?"

His body was motionless, perfectly still. His eyes looked at everything but me. Sark finally looked at me and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He rang his hands together, and sighed. "Yes, Sydney," his eyes looked deeply into mine, "we were. I loved you with all of myself, and you loved me."

I was silent. Stunned. I loved Julian Sark? My mind was racing, hoping for some spark of memory to come back and contradict his confession to me.

"I don't know why, Sydney, but you left. You decided to return to the CIA… and you never told me why." He sighed again, "we had our differences, and things hadn't been easy for us when you left, but I had hoped we'd overcome the differences."

"There's something else, isn't there, Sark?"

"No." He smiled weakly, "nothing." Sark stood from his stool, scratched his blonde head, and rested his hand on my shoulder, "Sydney, I know that you don't remember and you can't understand right now, but, I don't think you need to know right now everything that happened. Right now we need to focus on getting home above all else."

"Sark-"

"When the time comes, Sydney, you'll know everything. But, for now, just know that I'm sorry and that I missed you so much." He took his hand from my shoulder and left the room. I watched him walk out and wanted to make him stop. I wanted to force him to stay with me and explain the whole story. I _was _ready to hear. I needed to know.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Sydney broke my heart once, and crushed it a second time that night. Leaving her then was the hardest thing I had ever done. She had wanted me to stay with her, wanted me to be with her then. She was seeking my comfort, my answers. Yes, there had been something else. The whole reason she had left me, what I had done. What she had done.

The hardest choice I had ever made was to leave her, the woman I still loved deeply, alone when she needed me most. When she was realizing how much she still did need me.

I walked back into my bedroom, the one we had once shared, and pulled back the Egyptian cotton sheets and slid between them. I felt tears beginning to form in the corners of my eyes. The look on her face tore at me. I wanted to be with her, and hold her, and kiss away her pain and confusion. How would she be the next morning? Would she still be so comfortable with me now knowing that I was once her lover?

I wiped the offending tears from my eyes, and nestled down into my bed and closed my heavy eyes and dreamt of Sydney that night.

The next morning I woke up to someone pulling back my heavy black curtains and placing a tray of breakfast food next to me.

"Wake up, Sark!" Sydney half sung. "We have work to do today." She smiled at me as my eyes opened for the first time that day, bleary and foggy.

"You're far too bubbly in the mornings, Sydney Bristow."

"People say that… but I disagree. See, I think that it's best to be alert in the mornings. Be on your guard, you know?"

"Sydney," I pulled myself up and stretched my arms over my head, "are you feeling quite well?"

She squared her shoulders and puffed, "Julian Sark, after what you told me last night I decided that you really care about me, and my being questioning of your motives is wrong of me. I can tell you that you are in my life for a reason, one neither of us can see, and that is enough reason for me to trust you and to… to cherish the friend I have found in you."

I know she was trying to ease my worries, to make me feel better about being around her, but her use of the words "friend" and "love" so close together in a sentence was not ideal at the moment. Yes, I wanted her to love me… but not as a mere friend. I wanted Sydney to love me as she had before she left me.

"Yeah," I looked at the tray of food and picked up a slice of toast and bit into the crunchy bread. "Friend… I really appreciate that, Sydney." I smiled through my mouthful of toast. That was when I noticed her garb or choice.

Sydney had pulled her hair up into a twist in the back of her head and allowed wisps of her bangs to fall into her face, framing her beautiful eyes and accentuating her full lips. Her pink silk bath robe had fallen open to reveal a pair of pink silk pajamas. The top was cut low allowing her breasts to peer partly out from the fabric. Cherry blossoms embroidered on the silk crawled and slinked across the tank top, and down onto the extremely short bottoms which were a matching pink with the same embroidery. They sat low on her hips, about five inches below her belly button. I had never seen Sydney wear something so revealing before. She had always been sexy, but never in such an obvious way.

She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm going to take a shower. You eat and wake up, okay?"

I nodded, suddenly unable to speak. I watched the angel of seduction walk out of my bedroom and shut the door behind her. I flopped back on my bed. What was she doing? Was I reading too much into the display of her clothing? I groaned and ate my eggs.

"Sydney Bristow!" I shouted stalking through the apartment, "you are _never _allowed to make coffee in this home again!" I could still taste the thick bitter ear-wax flavor on my tongue and it was still all too familiar.

She poked her head from around the corner; her hair was still damp and her make up only half on, "huh?"

"The coffee. It's terrible."

"Oh… I'm sorry. Just pour some water in it." She smiled and walked out into the living room as I pulled back the floor-to-ceiling curtains revealing morning in St. Petersburg. I turned to retort but was stopped again by her beauty. She wore low rise Mud Jeans and a tight white tee shirt with a low V-neck. A little silver locket looped around her neck and hung just above the bottom of the neck line of her blouse. She had sliver heels on with French manicured toes and fingers.

"Sydney, you look amazing."

She smiled, "thank you." Sydney blinked once and turned back to her bedroom to finish her make up.

James walked into the living room. "Hello, mate."

"Good morning, James," I was still staring at the spot where Sydney had just been.

"How are you?"

"I'm…wonderful, James." I shook my head and turned to look at my once-partner. I sipped the coffee again, forgetting the terrible strength, and spat it out immediately. "Bollocks."

James laughed and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You, my friend, are one hell of a man."

"Thanks," the word was stiff and sarcastic. I wasn't trying to buddy up to James any more than I had to, and at the moment we had things to work on. Whether or not James was a friendly was not important at the moment. For the time being we had a common goal; getting back home. To our home, four years into the future. After that we could focus on the problem that was James.

I sat in my comfortable overstuffed chair with a high back. Sydney was to my right on a leather couch, stretched out and laying on her side. She was alluring in her tight jeans and white tee-shirt. James sat across from us, on a padded backless armless chair. The spires of St. Petersburg were our backdrop.

"The Manuscript," Sydney began sitting up from her relaxed position, "is held in this office. We should be able to sneak into the building and steal it relatively easy enough. The work schedules of everyone in the building from maintenance to the upper echelons of the corporation are listed here." She passed around the schedules. "I think that we could get in as a maintenance crew and get the manuscript out without anyone noticing. The hardest part is going to be getting into the safe. It has a four part locking system on it. A combination, fingerprint scanner, iris scan, and key lock. In order to get into the safe we have to pass all the locking mechanisms, in the correct order."

She looked at me, and I took my cue. "A Miss Jane Morose, the only person with full authorization for the safe, will be attending a charity gala tomorrow evening at the Yelagin Palace. Sydney and I will be attending as press for the _London Times_we should be able to retrieve the iris scan and fingerprints easily. James, the key is kept by Stanislav Tebiev. He keeps the key on his person at all times, which is why we will retrieve it from him instead of from Miss Morose." I passed James a picture of Stanislav. "The gala is white tie. Be ready for anything.

"I 'ave a question," James stated, "how the 'ell are we going to get the combination?"

Sydney and I were equally confused by his inquiry, "we'll use the scanner," Sydney answered.

"Not on that safe you won't."

"What do you mean, James?" I asked slowly.

"That model can detect the electronic pick scanners we rely on so fully."

Sydney and I looked at each other. There had to be a way to get into that safe, hopefully without the use of force. She smiled at me for a moment, and looked me over.

"How much did you like your evening with-"

"No!" I interjected not allowing her to finish the sentence. I would not allow that to happen again. "Never shall I ever permit my body to be used as a tool to extract information or blackmail from anyone. And I pity female agents who have to."

She glared at me playfully, "uh hu."

"Alright, you two… we need a plan."

Sydney sat up on the sofa and placed her chin in her hands. "I think I have a plan." She grinned.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Sark and I entered the grand palace dressed in our finest tuxedo and gown. I admit freely that he did buy me the gown and that I did allow him to spend far too much on it. But, it's a lovely garment that I just had to have. It was a deep emerald green that fit tightly through the bodice like a corset, lacing up the back, and cut low over my chest. Two frills of matching emerald looped around the tops of my arms like straps that had fallen from my shoulders. The skirt of the gown flowed out from the bottom of the corset, flowing around my legs. Embroidered with thousands of tiny sequins, the skirt barely belled out from around my legs, and a short train trailed behind me.

I had Julian Sark on my arm, and I felt like a princess. He was dressed nicely in an extremely expensive and formal tuxedo. We sauntered into the party and flashed our press badges to the guard at the check point. We were in.

We walked through the elegant halls, past couples and small groups speaking in fast, fluent Russian and other Slavic languages. We could hear the sounds of the grand ball ahead, the laughter of happy party goers and the soft music of the live orchestral quartet. I turned to Sark and smiled at him, genuinely happy to be with him.

When I was around him now something changed inside of me. I could feel this ever-present churning in my gut and along with it came the urge to impress Sark at every chance. I was so utterly confused by my need to make him proud or receive that look that he gave me so willingly.

One last turn and we were in the grand ball room. I spotted James across the room and directed Sark's attention to him. He nodded once and grabbed me and waltzed me across the floor.

"Alright, Sydney," he said into my ear as we twirled across the marble tiles, "I can see Miss Morose across the room. She is alone, but we are going to interview her when the song ends."

I nodded once and nuzzled my head down into his shoulder. He smelled better than usual. It was probably my imagination, but I would have sworn I felt his muscles tighten as my head lay in the crook of his neck.

The waltz ended, and he twirled me once more as we made our way across the floor to the lovely middle-aged woman before us. Sark's camera could have come straight out of Marshall Flinkman's work room. The lens took a snapshot of the iris and turned it into a contact lens that, worn correctly, would confuse the scanner on the safe and allow us to gain entrance to it. On my right hand I wore a specially designed device that would scan the fingertips of the person with whom I shook and send the information to the computer back in Sark's apartment and build a silicone model of the fingerprints. That was easy. Then we needed the combination. With a little bit of luck we could determine the sequence with relative ease.

"Excuse me, Miss Morose?" I asked with my perfectly practiced English accent.

"Yes," she turned and smiled at Julian and I.

I extended my hand and she shook, "my name is Erica Stewart, and this is my partner Richard Tal. We're with the _London Times."_

"Yes, of course. How can I help you?"

Sark raised his camera and she smiled as he took the picture. "We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions about your newest research project."

"On Fibonacci?" She inquired.

We nodded eagerly. We had our answer.

"I'm looking into the practical application of the Fibonacci Sequence on computers and informational technology." She paused, considered, and continued, "The sequence of numbers beginning with 'one' is the addition of the two previous numbers. One plus one equals two, two plus one equals three, three plus two equals five, and so on forever. Or, as high as one can count. I have found that the sequence invariably shows up in the programming of most technological advancements, with or without the prior knowledge or intent of the programmer. I'm researching why this happens."

"Thank you very much," Sark said and shook her hand. We had the prints, the iris scan, and the combination. Now we hoped our master pick-pocket across the room had the key.

We saw him duck around a few guests and smiled and nodded his head. We made for the rendezvous point.

As Sark and I walked through the opulent halls of the palace toward an exit I had the sudden and almost overpowering urge to kiss him. I stopped dead in my tracks and he turned to look at me.

"Are you alright, Sydney?"

I nodded. I could see something blurry in my mind. Sark and I twirling around a floor similar to the one we had just been on. Stopping suddenly in the middle of the dance as people flowed around us. A passionate kiss forcing us to forget everyone else in the room. And then I was back.

"Another memory?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

"What was it?"

"You and I dancing together," I smiled at him, "that's all. It just catches me off guard."

He nodded, trying so desperately to be understanding of me and hide how much it hurt him to see me going through this. I knew he wanted to be there for me, but I couldn't bring myself to love him. I did still not fully believe that I ever really did. There had to be something missing. The reason I left. He had told me things weren't easy for us, that something had started going wrong, but what? The snippets of memories that I had returning to me were all happy, none of them helped me to understand what was going wrong. The dreams were equally as vague, though more intense.

We started walking again, arm in arm, through the halls and past the security check point once again. We didn't have long before we needed to start work on the device, and I needed a good night's sleep before that happened. That was a joke. Sleeping well had ended with the night mares that had kept me from sleeping almost since I found Sark. Perhaps his being with me was triggering the memories. Perhaps not. It was impossible to tell now, but tonight I would tackle sleeping another way: medication. We met James out front and headed back home.

* * *

I changed as soon as we returned to the apartment. Back into my pink silk pajamas and matching bathrobe. I wrapped the cold fabric around me, tied the sash and walked back into the living room. Sark and James were already there. James had taken off his jacket, un-tucked his shirt and slacken his tie. Sark had changed completely. He wore his blue flannel pajama pants and a thin white tee shirt. My breath caught in my throat and I stared at him blankly, taken aback by his relaxed state of dress. For some reason the pajama pants and tee shirt shook me more than the flannel pants and no shirt I had seen him in just a couple of days ago.

I sat on the sofa, my legs crossed under me and smiled at the men, "how did we make out?"

James grinned, "perfect. I got the key; and you two, I assume, got the information from Morose?" Sark and I nodded together, the same smile on each of our faces. "Wonderful. Stage two is a go." He stood up and walked to the hall, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sark looked at me and smiled kindly. "You were amazing tonight, Sydney."

"Thank you, Sark."

"And you looked wonderful."

I nodded. "It's been a long day. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?" I stood up, not sure of the way he was acting. I wasn't sure how my speech had come across earlier about friendship, and hoped he didn't read too far into what I said. I didn't think he did. I stood up and tightened my bath robe around me. "Good night, Sark."

I started to walk away, but felt his hand on my waist. I turned to see him standing beside me, and he wrapped his arms around me. He felt warm and I almost wanted to pull him closer, but I couldn't. My mind flashed back to Vaughn, and how much I still loved him. How my getting back to my time and home was to be with him. However, I still couldn't deny the growing feelings I had for Sark. I watched him lean down, and I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and moist. His soft lips brushed mine and the skin on the back of my neck turned to goose bumps. I felt my body weaken, but forced myself to pull back from him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "but I can't." I looked at the ground and unhooked his arms from around me and stepped back.

When I finally looked up at him, I could see both hurt and confusion on his face. I knew we both wanted it, but I couldn't do that to myself or Sark. Or Vaughn.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

I watched Sydney walk away again and heard the soft _click _of her door shutting. I was so stupid! What had I been thinking? Did I really think she was ready for that? Just because I had told her she loved me once, just because I had let her into my mind and let her know that I needed her as much as I ever had didn't mean she felt the same for me. I couldn't expect her to be ready to jump back into my arms and things to be like they had. Even though it's the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world.

I could have kicked myself in that moment. I wanted to scream from frustration, and pull my hair. I had just pushed her way again. The little bit of trust that I had gained back from her I had lost in a moment… in one soft kiss that had left me more excited and happy than I had been in months. I wanted to cry.

I walked back into my bedroom and pulled my white tee shirt over my head and slid into my bed. I wanted Sydney with me, not for any reason than to know that she was safe, and to feel the warmth of her body near mine.

I woke up the next morning and knew that we had hours of planning for the mission that would be in a few days. We had to have everything timed perfectly, and the covers we created had to be in top condition. I glanced at my clock and rubbed my face with my hands and groaned.

I stepped out of my bed and stretched my feet on the cold floor and yawned and rolled my head around on my shoulders. As I scratched my left shoulder I walked out of my bedroom and into the living room. Someone had already opened the curtains and I could smell coffee in the air. I walked slowly through the apartment, and blinked a few times trying to wake up fully.

"James, what are you doing?" I called, assuming it was James who was up. I recalled that Sydney liked to sleep late after missions. Only very little did she actually _sleep _however. We would usually stay in bed for hou-

I refused to allow myself to think about that. Remembering the amazing time we spent together would only make me love her more, and wish more that she could remember how very much she had loved me.

"James is still sleeping, Julian!" She sounded happy. Happy like she had been before. The hairs on my arms stood up as my name rolled off her tongue like honey.

I walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the bar sipping her coffee and reading the morning paper.

"You just called me 'Julian,'" I stated the obvious.

"Yes…I suppose I did." She smirked. "Did I do that often?"

It was my turn to smile; "all the time, again and again" I raised my eyebrows suggestively. I watched her blush as she caught the insinuation. "No, but in all seriousness, after we became intimate you stopped calling me 'Sark,' I rather miss that."

She nodded and sipped her coffee again… coffee. "You made coffee?"

"Yeah, it's really good. Have some?"

"You're not allowed to make coffee in my kitchen. Long standing rule."

She raised an eyebrow, "well, I can't remember that, so, it doesn't count. Besides, mine is better than your wimpy-ass coffee that looks like tea."

I grinned and leaned toward her instinctively to kiss her, but she stopped me. "Sark, I-I—"

"I am sorry." I sat straight in my stool, "I should respect your wishes. Thank you, Sydney for putting last night behind us. I appreciate that, but I should have paid better attention to your wishes and not done what I just did." I knew how bad I was at apologies, but I continued to stumble over myself, "so, I'll go now and…shower."

"Sar—Julian." She touched my arm as I stood and waited for me to turn back to her, "it's okay, really. I'm just not ready to accept everything you've told me yet, but I do value your friendship, and I'm trying to understand how you must be feeling right now, too."

"Sydney, you couldn't understand. You could never," I sighed.

"But I can try. Please, let me help you… and I'll let you help me."

"Sydney…"

"I want to remember. I want to remember us, and the Covenant, and the CIA… and everything, but I need help to do it."

Her eyes were begging me, but I still couldn't quite trust her.

"How can I help you if you don't trust me?"

She looked down at the Russian news paper in front of her, "I do trust you, Sark."

I wanted to believe her, I wanted to really understand her and be able to know that she would trust everything that I told her, that she knew I was on her side, but something in her eyes told me she did not. Perhaps she needed more time. Perhaps she would never trust me like she did. Maybe I would never know.

I nodded once, "promise me, Sydney, that you won't let me down again."

She nodded, "you have to tell me _one _thing."

"What?"

"Why did I leave?" She sighed and sipped her coffee again, "I need to know what happened to make me leave like I did."

I sighed frustrated. Whatever trust she had in me would be gone the moment I told her the story. But, she was right. She needed to know. She disserved to know.

"Before I tell you, you have to believe that I loved you with every ounce of my soul, and that I never wished to hurt you. And that I made a horrible mistake, and I will never forgive myself."


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: This is Sark's story from the previous chapter. I'm telling it as a 3rd person flashback from the two years, just before Sydney finally leaves to go home.

**Chapter 18**

Sydney beamed, and pushed her blonde hair back from her shoulder. She opened the door to the apartment she and Sark had been sharing in Estonia for the past few months and shout it tightly behind her. She was glowing with excitement at the news she had received from Kendall. She closed the door quickly behind her and dropped her bag next to the door and slipped out of her expensive high heels.

"Julian?" She called hoping he was home. She wanted to tell him the news as soon as she could. "Julian, are you here?" She took off the designer jacket and lay it across the back of a chair in their apartment.

She assumed he wasn't home and walked through the living room, peeling her uncomfortable clothing from her body as she walked until she was wearing her bra and slip only. Her other clothes were draped over her arm. It was time to take a long, hot shower for the first time in three or four days. Sometimes, work just didn't seem to stop. The smile that had been on her face refused to shrink as she mentally prepared to give Sark the news she had been given.

She paused for a brief moment, and looked at the closed door to their bedroom. It was odd, she thought, to find the door closed. Doors in their apartments were never closed. It was more intimate that way. Sydney shook off the oddity, and twisted the door knob. That was when the something strange clicked. The silence in the flat wasn't quiet enough. She could hear something from behind the closed door, something out of place. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end and a chill flowed down her spine as she pushed the door open.

"Oh my God," she whispered, and her clothes fell to the floor as she lost control of the muscles in her arms. "Oh my God." The pain began to spread as the scene in front of her clicked in her mind. A lump in the back of her throat grew, threatening to choke her while tears sprang from her eyes, all the while she felt like she would vomit. "Julian…." She was furious, but couldn't show it, because the pain made her stiff. "Julian Sark," she spat.

Julian and the woman with him sat straight up in the bed, confusion on her face, sickness growing on his.

The brunette looked at Sark questioningly, "who is she?"

He looked at her, his face cold like marble, "go."

"Robbie…"

"No, go." He pulled back the blankets for her ease and watched the woman grab her jacket and pull it on to cover her nakedness.

Sydney was still frozen as the woman passed by her. She was obviously confused as she looked Sydney over in passing. "I'll call you later, okay, Robbie?"

"No." He stated firmly. He waited until he heard the door click shut before he moved again. "Sydney…" he stood from the bed and pulled his silk lounge pants on and walked over to her, he ran his hands over her arms.

"Don't touch me!" she spat at him, slapping his hands back from her. "You bastard. I know things haven't been easy, maybe they've even been bad, but if you're trying to hurt me Mr. Sark, this is how you do it."

He felt like daggers had been shoved through his chest when she called him "Mr. Sark." He looked down at the floor, wishing he knew the right words to say. He wished even more if he felt so bad because he had been with another woman, or if he felt bad because Sydney had caught him.

"Please, just—"

"No," she shook her head, "I came home to tell you we could be alone, finally. The CIA had come up with an exit for me. They were going to let me out of this," she motioned around the room, "I was going to retire. I was going to ask you to come with me. We could live somewhere quite together, alone, for the rest of our lives. No spies, no secrets, no people trying to kill us…" She laughed, "but, I guess the old adage is right. There _is _no honor among thieves."

"Sydney, that didn't mean anything," he was following her through the apartment now, watching her struggle back into her clothes, watching her cry.

She stopped suddenly and turned back to him, her mascara streaking down her face with the tears she could no longer hold back, "you were having sex with her! How can you tell me that screwing some woman means nothing?"

"Sydney… it was a mistake."

"No, you don't make mistakes, Sark. You only ever do what you mean to do."

"Sydney, can't we discuss this?"

They were standing by the door, Sydney was struggling into her shoes, and had her purse draped over her shoulder.

"What do you want to discuss, Sark? How did it feel? Was she good? Hell! Let's invite her back, I'll join in!"

"Why are you calling me that?"

"What?"

"Sark."

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"You haven't called me that in almost a year."

"Yeah, well, it appears that I don't know you well enough to be on a first name basis. See, the man I knew had integrity. Good bye, Mr. Sark."

"Sydney," he called grabbing her arm and pulling her against him, "please, don't."

"Good bye." She broke free from his grip and walked down the hall way, never looking back to him.

Once outside the apartment building, Sydney collapsed into a bench where she allowed herself to cry. To really let out the emotion she had kept so dammed up back with Sark. Her mind was still reeling at the sight she had walked in on. How could he do that to her? She thought he loved her.

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the secure number that Kendall had given her all those months ago.

"Hello?"

"Base, this is Mountaineer."

"One moment."

"Yes?" It was Kendall's familiar voice on the other end.

"I'm going to take the exit you offered."

"And is Sark coming with you?"

Sydney wiped her eyes, "no," she stated determined.

"Contact me in twenty-four hours, Agent Bristow. We've got some work to do."

The line went dead and Sydney stood up, shakily and walked down the street, hardly caring where she ended up.

Julian Sark had watched the whole scene on the street from his window above. He knew Sydney had called the CIA. And he knew that if he let her go, he would never hear from her again. He banged against the glass and turned away to shower and think.

"That is where we split ways, Sydney," I sighed and couldn't look her in the eye. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you that day. For almost four months I didn't hear a word from you. None of my sources had either. I assumed that you took the exit and retired to the middle of nowhere like you had wanted. So, as far as your missing time goes, that is the last that I know about it."

"You lied to me," she said, her voice quite.

"What?"

"You told me before that you didn't know why I left."

I nodded, "that's true. I did tell you that. I was still angry. I was still hurt. I was hoping I would never have to tell you, Sydney. I was blaming _you _for what happened that day."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to face my own mistakes, Sydney."

She lifted my chin so she could look me in the eye, "I don't remember that day, Sark, but I know that it must have hurt terribly or I wouldn't have reacted that way. I promised you I wouldn't let you down again," she shook her head, "and I don't intend to. You are my one friend I can count on now, Sark. And I'm sorry I called you a bastard." She grinned.

"I forgive you." I smiled, "and I'm sorry for what I did that day."

"Julian Sark, how can I hold something against you that I don't remember?"

"You have a point, Sydney."

She smiled softly at me and kissed the top of my head before standing up and walking out of the kitchen.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Hey! I'm sooo sorry it's taken so long to update. My brother "upgraded" Microsoft Word, and it was only a trial, so it was just... today that I finally got it working again. Hope you haven't all lost interest. I'm sorry for the delay. Please comment so I know I'm not posting to empty space. Thank you for reading and responding!**  
**

**Chapter 19**

I smiled at Sark, and drank my coffee as fast as I could. If what he had told me was true, then maybe he couldn't be trusted like I thought he could. Maybe if he had slept with another woman while I loved him, what was to keep him from doing it again now?

In my heart, I still loved Vaughn. I couldn't let Julian Sark come between us. I had to get back to the present and remind Vaughn how very much I loved him.

I placed my hand on his shoulder and looked him squarely in the eye, "it's okay, Sark. Please, don't think this changes how I feel about you." I heard myself say the words, but didn't know where they had come from. I knew how they sounded to him, because that is how they sounded to me as well. "I have to go get ready for today…"

"Sydney, I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"Let's talk in your room, shall we? It's more private."

"Alright." I walked quickly into my bedroom and shut the door behind us. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure how the device will work, but if I'm right, James might not be a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I was thinking about him today. Trying to figure out how to deal with him. Then I remembered… If the device sends us back the same as we were… James was dead. We'd been drinking the night before… we were drunk… I woke up and James was dead. Then I was here. And James was alive again."

"Sark… I don't know what to say."

"Sydney, no matter what happens when we return, we have to know who is watching us. Who James is working with."

I nodded. I knew Sark was right. Whatever James was doing, he needed to be stopped, and so did whoever he was working for. Nothing could be easy any more.

I walked over to my dresser and opened my underwear drawer. "Um... Sark," I paused and glanced at the door, "do you mind?"

"Um… no, not at all." He smiled a little and left the room.

As the door shut behind him, I sighed and tossed clean underwear onto the bed. My head was racing. James… dead? Sark… how could he… why was I so upset? I couldn't even remember the scene he had explained to me. I was beginning to get angry thinking about it. I was furious, and I didn't know why. How could he do that to me? I felt a tear slide down my face and quickly slapped it away.

Why was I more upset about Sark, who cheated on a me that I didn't remember, than I was about Vaughn, who was married to another woman? That question toyed in my head while I changed my clothes and put on my makeup. At this moment in my life, I wanted to hate Julian Sark… but though I was so angry, I couldn't bring myself to hate him. Something in me… something in me loved him.

I looked at myself in the mirror before walking into the kitchen. I sat gently at one of the stools and smiled at James.

"Hey, James."

"'Ello, there, Syd!"

"So… the op tomorrow," I paused, "are you nervous?"

"What's to be nervous about? Breaking and entering, security cameras, stealing a four hundred year old priceless manuscript… naw, not nervous at all."

I laughed, "so, James, what happened just before I left?"

"Left wha', Sydney?"

I sighed, "I know that the three of us were a team. I know that we worked closely together, and that something was going on between Sark and I. What made me leave?" I desperately wanted to think that Sark wouldn't hurt me like that. I wanted to think that he made up that terrible story he had told me.

James put his coffee down, and looked me sternly in the eye, "you and Jules were lovahs. He was an idiot, not something hard for 'im, and you found out about it. You lef' without a word to eifer of us. We hadn't heard from you in months, and Jules took it pretty 'ard. Thought he'd never 'ear from you again, started drinkin', we did. I've never seen 'im like that before, and he's almost back to his old 'elf, now. You're the best think that's ever 'appened to him. Thank God for you, Sydney Bristow." James winked at me and left the kitchen.

"Damn..." I sighed. Sometimes it could be nearly impossible to dislike Sark. Maybe he really did feel badly about what happened.


End file.
